


like a box of chocolates

by emeraldsapphic



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 26,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsapphic/pseuds/emeraldsapphic
Summary: a gift for everyone, each day up to christmas. hope you feel loved.one-shot series of prompts requested by friends on tumblr.
Relationships: Alexander Albon/Daniel Ricciardo, Alexander Albon/George Russell, Charles Leclerc/Sebastian Vettel, Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Kimi Räikkönen/Sebastian Vettel, Lando Norris & Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris & George Russell, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Lewis Hamilton & Sebastian Vettel, Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg, Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel, Nicholas Latifi & George Russell, Nicholas Latifi/Lance Stroll, Pierre Gasly & Esteban Ocon, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly/Lewis Hamilton
Comments: 160
Kudos: 358





	1. when everyone but you sees it - even your dumb friend

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my advent calendar! we're starting with one of my favorites!  
> requested by @adorablealbono hope you like it, soph! even if it is perhaps slightly different than what you thought but it's george's fault! he monopolized this one.
> 
> hope you like it, i really do!
> 
> day one: alexander albon/george russell

George never thought he'd ever hate Lando, but the boy was really pushing his buttons and asking for it.

"George, you are hopeless."

"Shut up."

"Awe, George is in love."

"Will you stop now?"

"Why? It's cute."

"What's cute?"

"That you two are together! Don't think I have a problem with that, by the way! You can tell me anything." Lando flashed him the biggest smile.

"What are you talking about?"

"About you and Alex, you muppet! Don't act dumb. I may look sixteen, but I do have a sixth sense on these sorta things."

"You might want to check your other 5 senses as well, Lando. Nothing is going on between Alex and me."

Lando's eyebrows furrowed as he frowned. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Sorry, mate." He looked down as he picked at his fingers awkwardly. "But, like, are you sure?"

George let out a laugh, "Yes, Lando, I am sure."

"It's just that I thought-"

"Lando."

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up, sorry."

George sighed, "Not your fault."

Lando mentioned nothing about the conversation for weeks until a comment under George's Instagram one day prompted Lando to text him.

_"Does Callum know?"_

It took a few moments for George to understand, and when he did, he regretted telling Lando about his crush on their friend.

He saw Callum's reply under Alex's comment.

_Left your fireproofs at home?_

_At your house most likely, oi oi._

George's blood froze. He threw his phone back on his bed. He stalled and took his time before replying to Lando. Distracting himself and doing anything else but picking his phone up, feeling slightly guilty for ignoring him.

He picked up his phone only when Lando facetimed him. "Bro, are you okay?"

Lando looked sleepy and tired as he ran his hand through his hair and pushing it out of his face.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah, I was about to get to sleep, but I didn't hear from you, and I got worried."

"Awe."

"Shut up and answer my question."

"Sorry, what was it again?"

"Does Callum know?"

"No, he's just an idiot."

"Does anyone else know? Alex?"

"No, he doesn't."

"Oh, okay. I was just wondering. Should I try to find out? If he feels the same, I mean."

"Lando," he reprimanded, "Don't you dare."

"Okay, okay, chill. I won't."

"Good."

"George?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," George sighed.

"I wish I could come to cheer you up," Lando pouted.

"Don't worry, really. You cheered me up just by calling."

"As soon as I can, I am coming over with ice cream."

George laughed, "Thanks, mate. You should probably go to sleep. You look a mess."

"Hey!"

"I appreciate it mate."

"Nighty, George."

"Goodnight."

The next time George saw Lando, it was race week.  
Not March, but April. Not in Australia, but in Austria.

And it didn't happen as Lando had promised. No hugs and no ice cream. Just a pat on the back, away from indiscreet eyes. Almost as if simple compassion was prohibited.

It had taken George a lot of courage to smile under the mask. Not like anyone could tell. His smile rarely reached his eyes anymore, anyway.

Quarantine had been a struggle, and that was an understatement.  
George thanked the universe for letting Aleix be close to him. His trainer advised him to use all the negative thoughts to his advantage. At least his interior pain had done something useful and had pushed him.

One heartbeat skip meant 10 minutes on the exercise bike.

Needless to say, George ended up spending a lot of hours on it.

Lando looked at him with big eyes and impatience.  
_Did you tell him?_ The question behind his behavior.  
But George pretended not to see, not to understand. It was easier that way.

He could have mimicked the question, but George didn't work like that. Vindicative retorts weren't made for him.

He and Lando had gotten very close - ironically - in the time they had spent apart.

It started with George's unintentionally-forced coming out. Lando had not meant any harm. He was just plagued with morbid curiosity and sympathy.  
He had just wanted to help.

But George was also glad about the resolution of it all. He was glad his friend knew, talking to someone actually helped - not that he did often, but it was nice to have the possibility to.

And bonus points, George never had to say the cursed words. The actual confession never left his mouth. Frankly, he didn't even know if he could have said it - _I'm gay_ \- so ridiculously hard, still.

Lando had found in himself the decency to never ask him about it. Not directly, at least. Indirectly - yes - almost making fun of George's intelligence by trying to hide it. Of course, George had always been good at understanding subtext - just an accessory added as a bonus with all the years hiding. So, a differently phrased sentence had brought the real question to light.

" _How long have you known that you like him?_ "

George remembered sighing over the phone and rolling his eyes.

Then he finally understood the real motive behind Lando's interest.  
It was weirdly offensive to realize that his friend had not asked out of sheer curiosity but pushed by a second purpose.

It was also very liberating.

He couldn't be mad at Lando after all.

He and Lando had gotten really drunk on facetime one evening. Kind of a late birthday party for George, a couple of weeks into quarantine.  
Lando looked bothered by something. George asked once, twice, but he didn't want to tell him. Then Lando progressively got more and more desperate. George asked a third time.

"I have a crush!"

George laughed.

"Don't laugh, you idiot! It's serious."

"Who is it? Is it the girl you sent on the group chat the other day?"

Lando's overdramatic sigh still played in his memory.

"It's not a girl."

George never thought he'd let out an inhuman screech as terrifying ever in his life.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. Somewhere in his mind, for a second, his ego sparked the suspicion that he may have been the crush Lando talked about.  
Then both relief and offense replaced panic. Of course, it wasn't George. And George didn't actually want that, either.

When Lando blurted out his teammate's name in tears, George's eyebrows furrowed.

Love was crazy. He felt bad for his friend, almost as much as he commiserated himself.

Falling for someone was already hard enough without them having to be straight, or taken, or worse, both.

Lando meekly mentioned it again, their confession, in the warm atmosphere of the Austrian summer.

"You should speak to him."

George nodded. "You should do it, too. You know, before he leaves your team."

"I don't want it to ruin our last season together. I'll do it later, even though I hope it will have faded by then, and I won't need to."

George, on the other hand, didn't have the same delusion his friend carried.

* * *

He didn't know how they ended up cycling together.

"George, you want to go for a ride?"

George's blood froze, were they even allowed to?

He didn't even know why he agreed. He had asked the team, weirdly hoping for a negative response but no one opposed. They just reminded him of social distancing, to be careful, and have fun.

And here they were, sitting on a bench, resting. Aleix and Patrick nowhere in sight, probably complaining about how picky both George and Alex were with their food.

"George."

"Hm?"

"Are you okay? Lando said you needed to tell me something."

George's face enflamed with rage - or embarrassment - or perhaps both. A clump formed in his esophagus. His lungs suddenly forgot how to work.

Alex was visibly worried, and George's heart skipped a beat. Maybe he should have just paid the pledge and gotten his 10 minutes on his bike and run away.

"Talk to me. We're friends, aren't we? You can tell me anything."

"Don't say that."

Alex's brows furrowed. He slid closer on the bench.  
George's heart skipped a couple other beats - pretty sure he could have had a full hour on the bike now.

"We're not kids anymore. We should be able to talk about anything. Don't you trust me?"

"I do. I just- I don't trust myself."

"Let it go. I am sure we can work it out. We're close enough, George. Don't you think?"

George zoned out. All he could see was fog.

"George?"

A concerned voice. A gloved hand on his face, wiping tears he hadn't even realized he had been shedding.

George's mind was blank, he couldn't think properly - or at all - so he did the next best thing.

He kissed him.

He fucking kissed him.

George's eyes widened in terror, scared of himself and of his sudden courage - or rather, his desperate self-sabotage.

"Was that it?"

George batted his eyelashes in confusion a few times. 

"What you wanted to say? The huge secret? Is it that you like me?" Alex laughed, amused at the terror in George's eyes, as he nodded slightly, trying to wipe it away by kissing him back. 

"Wait- you knew? You like me? Am I really that dumb?"

"Yes, yes, and _yes, you are._ "


	2. may all your christmas be white - or not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @rerosed who asked for maxiel white christmas!  
> hope you like it!
> 
> day two: daniel ricciardo/max verstappen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought it was fitting to post it today since it’s snowing in milan!
> 
> enjoy :)

Daniel never thought he'd see snow in his life. It had almost been a promise to himself. Because to see snow meant not to be home for Christmas, and he always loved going back home.

But that year, something had changed.

Of course, Australia was always going to be there, in his heart. But now, home in his heart didn't mean _where_ as much as it meant _who_.

Home meant him.

Because he was home. He was love. He was everything.

And if Daniel had to give up his usual Christmas tan, then so be it.  
Even if he had to wear two jackets and a hoodie not to die of hypothermia, he did it just so he could see a smile on his face.

Because of love, because of home.

He had not planned it, not at all. He was supposed to go back to Australia, just for a couple of weeks.

It had been a silent agreement, summer break together, in Monaco, or wherever their heart desired, and winter break on their own. Back to see family, or at least, that was Daniel's plan.

But then they talked.

Max never asked him to stay, and Daniel knew it was not because he had not wanted to. Max never asked cause he respected their boundaries, and he knew how much Daniel missed his family and his friends back home.

_"You don't mind me leaving?"_

_"I could never ask you not to go back home, Daniel."_

They had an agreement. Summer break was always going to be theirs, no matter where. And Max always expected and insisted that the Australian went back to his roots in winter.

But then that one conversation back in summer - sitting in Max's balcony, watching the sunset - had shifted somewhere else.

_"Will you go back to Belgium?"_

_"I'd rather not. I'll stay at home. Maybe I'll go visit Lando, he asked me last year but, you know."_

Daniel had been curious to know the reason for his sudden hostility towards his childhood home. Max always proudly reminded everyone that, even though he felt more connected to his Dutch roots, he was born in Belgium. So Daniel really couldn't place when his feelings had changed.

"I don't mind going there usually. It's just winter that- that, I don't know, hits different, I guess." He sighed loudly, running a hand on his temple. "My father used to take me karting when it snowed."

And there, the flashback started. Max told Daniel about the frozen grounds, the snow on his skin, the cold he could still feel in his bones. Daniel had sat next to him as he listened to Max confess to him of abuse and torture, amazed and terrified at the same time of the detached way he told the horrifying stories of his childhood.

That's when Daniel decided he wasn't going to leave anymore.

And winter really wasn't for him.  
No matter how much he tried to like it, he couldn't bear having to cover himself from the tip of his nose to his feet just to properly function outside.

The night it snowed, it was better, though. He had to admit that - deep down - he had always wanted to try the white-Christmas experience. Just once. Just to see what the fuss was about.

And he really didn't get it at first, not even the snow. Sure it was cool for the first few minutes, but nothing more.  
What Daniel didn't expect, though, was the sudden ache in his heart when he caught Max's eyes.

He was looking at the snow with a melancholic expression. Sad thoughts and appreciation mixing together in Max's mind.

Daniel knew him. 

Max stared at the snowflakes as they fell, looking slightly upwards, with a red nose Daniel died to kiss.

"You like the snow?"

"I don't know. It's pretty, but it hurts a bit."

Daniel closed his eyes and breathed in.

"I am glad you're here. Now I can wash away the bad memories. And replace them with better ones."

Daniel's chest tightened. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Max's waist, placing his head on the crook of his neck, burying his nose in Max's jacket collar, and cursing once again the cold for not letting him feel his skin.

"Daniel?"

"I am so sorry. I hate seeing you sad."

"I can never be sad if I am with you. It's just memories, Danny. I am fine."

"Are you really?" He looked up.

"Yes. Now that I saw you with a red nose, I definitely am."

"Shut up, you idiot." Daniel buried his face in his neck again.

"You love me."

"I do," Daniel said, his voice muffled.

"I think I am done torturing you with the cold today." Max laughed. "We can go inside."

"Oh, yes, please."

"I am sorry you must be hating it here."

" _Max,_ " he reprimanded. "Don't say that."

"You don't regret staying?"

"I love you. I wanted to be there for you. I am glad I stayed."

"I am glad you stayed, too."

"Thought I was thinking the maybe next year you could come with me."

"You mean to Australia?"

"No, to Italy," Daniel sarcastically replied, while Max just rolled his eyes at him. "Obviously, Australia."

"Really? Wouldn't your friends mind?" Max asked with the eyes of a child.

"Really. And no, don't worry. Besides, I don't really care."

Max laughed shaking his head.

"You know what," Daniel said while taking off the multiple layers of jackets he had been wearing, "The snow is pretty from inside. It's kind of magical."

"Are you changing your mind, then?"

"Oh no," Daniel scoffed. "I still love my Christmas tan. And surfing with Santa."

"You can't surf," Max teased.

"Wearing nothing but swimming trunks every day," Daniel continued, choosing to ignore Max's diss.

"Oh," Max's expression changed. "You know what, you are right. That sold me." He leaned in to kiss Daniel's signature grin. "Next year, Christmas in Australia it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i wrote this 10 days ago only to find out my psychic abilities have manifested once again - i don’t know why i am even surprised that max was actually forced to train in the cold (as i was told he says in the latest interview that came out like 5 days ago?) 
> 
> oh well


	3. nothing feels as good as your praise - or your bitchiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one if for @charleslestappen who asked for pierre running up to charles when he does well one day. hope you like it love <3
> 
> day three: pierre gasly/charles leclerc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i wrote this one _before_ the bahrain gp - again, idk why the universe is doing this to me

Charles couldn't feel his legs. The world was shaking around him. Distracted from everything, he could barely hear the congratulations of his engineer.

"You did it, Charles! Good job!"

He could even faintly hear Binotto congratulating him in Italian. He was sure the Tifosi were going to love that.

His mind was still blank. He couldn't even remember if he had celebrated on the radio. Had he even said anything at all?

"Charles, are you okay?"

Apparently not. 

"Oh yeah, sorry guys, just shocked. Happy, but shocked."

Truth was, he couldn't wait to get out of the car. He was happy- sure - but there was something else on his mind.

_"Is Pierre okay?"_

_"I don't know, Charles, focus on the last lap. I will update you when I find out more."_

How could he focus on racing when Pierre had just crashed? He had wanted to yell at his engineer. Charles didn't think he could handle even the thought of Pierre getting seriously injured - or worse. He shook his head.

It looked bad, very bad. He only thanked - whatever spiritual entity, he didn't really care - that Pierre had not crashed at the end of the long straight but at the end of the Parabolica. He sighed remembering his own crash there the year before. It had been painful, but with no consequences other than a few bruises and a pounding headache - even though he should have blamed Binotto for that.

He wanted to ask again, demand, beg to look faster, but he didn't want to spark any suspicion or speculation. There was already enough gossip in the buzzing air of the paddock.

He jumped out of the car as soon as possible. He barely glanced around to check who ended up making the podium with him. Not that he cared too much. His priority was to find Pierre and make sure he was okay - and in one piece.

Though, a huge smile somehow reached his face when he saw Seb's empty Aston Martin on his right, his ex-teammate already out of it to congratulate Lewis on his second place. If it couldn't have been Pierre, at least he was glad it was Seb.

Then it sank in, Charles had won. In Monza. Again. He couldn't wait to flavor it fully.

But he wasn't able to, yet, so he looked around, trying to find any sign of Pierre or anyone from Alpha Tauri he could have asked. 

"Charles!"

"Good job, man."

He faintly heard Sebastian and Lewis congratulate him, among the chaos and cries and celebrations, and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

"Did you guys hear anything about Pierre?" It felt rude to not thank them, but he was sure they'd understand - and would have done the same - if they had been in his place.

"Bono said he came out alright."

"Yeah, I saw him get out on the mirrors after I passed him last lap. He's fine."

Charles let out the breath he had been holding for a while when he felt Seb's hand on his shoulder. 

"Now enjoy it, Charles." Seb flashed his sweetest smile. No matter the history of highs and lows they had together, there never was bad blood between them. Charles knew he would always look up to Sebastian, and his congratulations always mattered the most.

"Thank you, Seb. I am glad we're back up there together." He frankly didn't know where he found the strength to talk or the capability to form a coherent sentence.

"Speaking of, I think there's someone who wants to congratulate you, too." Lewis winked at him, and Charles could feel heat expanding from his cheeks to the rest of his face as he caught Pierre approaching him.

Had he said anything to Lewis?  
He shook his head and smiled, forgetting about the thought as he saw Pierre running up to him, limping slightly.

" _Mon petit,_ you did it! I am proud of you." Pierre threw his arms around him, slightly picking him up, causing Charles to giggle light-heartedly.

"Are you okay?" He asked, alarmed, refering to Pierre's leg.

"Oh yeah, just a cramp. I swear."

Charles hugged him tighter, he didn't want to let him go.

"I am so proud of you."

"Thank you, _calamar_."

"Never going to drop that, huh?"

"Nope." Charles laughed as he shook his head.

"Well, you are in my spot today, you know?" Pierre said, glancing at the podium.

"Technically, I was there first."

Pierre laughed, "That's fair." 

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Charles. I'll just rest for a few days."

"I am making sure you do that."

Pierre raised an eyebrow at him, so Charles added, "I am staying here for a few days. I don't want to hear any complaints."

"Oh, you'll be hearing none from me, _chéri._ " Pierre whispered in his hear before playfully pushing him, "Now go! Enjoy it!"

The podium was over before Charles even fully realized what was happening. He was glad to see the usual red sea of the Tifosi buzzing with excitement, screaming their lungs out, proudly singing along the Italian anthem in tears.  
Charles might have gotten a bit emotional as well - not that he'd ever admit it.

After the debrief and a lot of congratulations, he asked the team if it was alright he stayed instead of heading back to Monaco. No one opposed, and no one asked questions. Charles was sure he could have asked them anything that day. Still, he vowed to apologize personally to the logistics team, anyway.

It took them an hour to get to Pierre's flat. Traffic because of the Grand Prix complicit in doubling the time it usually took. 

Back home, Pierre threw himself on the couch, groaning loudly.

"Are you sure you don't want to get checked out?"

"Charles, I told you. The doctor checked me back in Monza, I don't need another doctor to tell me that I am fine, need to rest my muscles, and take a few painkillers."

"Your head still hurts?"

"A bit. Nothing that sleep and a good dose of Charles won't fix." Pierre reached his arms out for him, and Charles joined him on the couch.

"I am a painkiller now?"

"My favorite drug." Pierre kissed him tenderly. "You know I am really proud of you, right?"

"You told me."

"My race winner. My future champion."

Charles's eyes were getting dangerously glossy. It had been a very emotional day, after all.  
He hugged Pierre tightly, trying to prevent any tears from leaving his own eyes, but resulting in Pierre flinching. 

"Are you okay?"

"I think my chest is bruising."

Charles helped Pierre take his shirt off and winced at the horrible looking bruises that were showing up on his skin, holding himself off from touching them and making everything worse.

"Should probably put some Voltaren on those."

Pierre nodded before grabbing Charles's wrist, as he left the couch. "Don't worry too much, okay?" He flashed a smile before adding, "At least that means the seat bells worked." 

"Don't even joke about that. Of course, they worked."

Pierre scoffed. "Then the next time you move even a centimeter in your car without a seatbelt on, I am punching you."

"That was one time!"

"One is too many times, Charles."

"Okay, okay. I swear it won't happen again." 

"Good, now get me that cream before I turn completely purple."

Later in the evening, after a short nap on the couch, Charles somehow convinced Pierre to move and go lay on the bed. 

"Are you sure you don't want to eat anything?"

"Too tired to make anything."

"I'll make something."

"Babe, the crash today didn't kill me, but your cooking will."

Charles lightly slapped Pierre's arm. "Stop that," he scolded. "I really thought you-" his voice betrayed him.

Pierre hugged him and placed a kiss on his temple. "I am sorry. I won't joke about it anymore."

Charles nodded and kissed him lightly. "What do you want to do for dinner, then?"

"Delivery? Sushi?"

"Oh then I'll make sure to order the tempura you ate last time. Maybe this time you'll break your own record. How far did that poor squid fly last time? 3, 4 meters?"

"I am going to throw _you_ across the room, _petite garce._ "

" _J'aimerai te voir essayer_."

"Is that a challenge?" Pierre slyly grinned.

"Maybe."

Charles leaned in for a kiss, only for him to cause Pierre to flinch at the sudden weight on his chest.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

Pierre laughed, "Maybe I'll show you tomorrow."

"Right. I'll go order the food, _calamar._ " Charles teased, earning himself a pillow thrown to his back as he left the room.

"Don't you forget the spring rolls this time, _calamardo_!"

Charles heard calling from the bedroom. He chuckled to himself as he picked up his phone.

"Stop yelling before I tell Pyry what you're eating tonight."

"I hate you!"

No - he thought to himself, chuckling - he wouldn't exchange what he had, not even for all the Monza wins in the world.


	4. alone together in a cabin - with no internet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @eeveesjourney and anon, who asked for sewis celebrating a white christmas! i combined your prompts because they were about the same, hope you like it! <3
> 
> day four: sebastian vettel/lewis hamilton

It had started as a simple suggestion.

_"Do you want to go somewhere on winter break?"_

_"Somewhere?"_

_"Like in the mountains somewhere."_

_"I live in between the mountains, already."_

_"Oh, you know what I mean! A cabin in the snow. Maybe skiing. A cute fireplace moment. Just us together."_

_"Just us? Skiing? In the mountains?"_

_"Yeah, why not?"_

_"With no internet?"_

_"What does that mean? We're in the 2020s. It's not like phones won't work there."_

_Sebastian smiled and shook his head knowingly._

_"What?"_

_"You're obsessed with that thing."_

_"I am not!"_

_Sebastian looked at him with raised eyebrows._

_"Seriously?" Lewis glared at him._

_"Prove it to me. How about we leave for a week in a cabin in the snow, as you wish, but-" Sebastian raised a finger and a challenge. "You won't be allowed to use your phone."_

_Lewis blinked a few times, not knowing what to say._

_"See? You're hesitating!"_

_"You know that it's actual work for me, right?"_

_"Your job is to drive a Formula one car and win. Job, which - if I have to say - you do really well."_

_Lewis shook his head, never forgetting to smile. They were never going to agree on that. Not like Sebastian would ever understand what an influencer was. It was fine, Lewis didn't really mind. And, if he had to be completely honest, the weird generational difference between them - that was somehow switched - was quite funny to see._

_"Fine. I'll do it. I'll have to think of a way to tell everyone I'll be gone for a week without worrying anyone."_

_"How about... I am going on a vacation with my lovely, amazing, 4-time-world- champion boyfriend, and I want to enjoy it?"_

_"Do you want me to break the internet?"_

_"Well, if you're going to leave it for a week, might as well go out with a bang - that way, when you come back, things will have calmed down."_

_Lewis laughed as he shook his head. Sebastian really was clueless._

They ended up choosing the Italian alps, no reason in particular, other than Sebastian wanting to spoil himself with some food.

"Sometimes, I don't think you are an F1 driver."

"Life's too short to count calories. And pasta's too good. The only good thing about having to go to Maranello so many times."

Lewis wanted to object, talk about him leaving Ferrari, but he wasn't sure about how he felt about Sebastian's last joke. He knew it was still a sore spot for him, and they had never properly delved into the discussion.

"Are you okay? Lewis?"

The Brit realized he had been silent for too long and replied, "Yeah, yeah. Just thinking about what pasta is vegan."

"You know what? That's a good question."

He didn't miss the way Sebastian's face relaxed when Lewis changed the conversation topic. It made him feel better about lying to him. It was a white lie - it was okay.

They had been relaxing together for a few days already. Enjoying each other's company, sitting by the fireplace at night, and talking about anything. Sebastian had even tried to convince Lewis to at least try skiing, but the latter was irremovable.

"Angela said she'll kill me if I come back even with just one bruise."

Instead, he had offered to watch from the sidelines and take pics, and Sebastian had innocently joked, "Only if you promise not to post them as soon as we go back."

It was supposed to be an innocent joke but Lewis kept thinking about it for the rest of the day, even in the evening, after dinner, when he was sitting by the fireplace, looking at the snow falling.

"Would you really mind that much?" He asked casually, almost whispering, as Sebastian poured him a glass of wine.

"Hm?"

Lewis was tempted to let it go, to make it about something else, to pretend he hadn't said anything.

"You'd really mind that much if we told everyone?"

Sebastian sat down on the sofa next to Lewis with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pouting in a confused expression. He reached out and put his arm around Lewis, who wasted no time wiggling closer to him.

"That we're on vacation together?"

"That we are together."

"Where did that come from? If you're talking about earlier, I was joking. You know that, right?"

"I know. It's just that I also know you are very reserved."

"I just don't want people to make a fuss about my personal life."

Lewis nodded understandingly.

"Though, if you want to, we can do it. Maybe we should find a more low-profile way to do it. Or you could just drop that post, I don't mind. I mean, I look very good in that picture."

Lewis laughed, "You do."

"Don't stress about it, Lewis. We can do it at our own pace, whenever you feel like it, however you feel like it. I don't care."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Lewis nodded to reassure him, and Sebastian kissed the side of his head.

Sebastian picked up the two glasses of wine on the coffee table in front of him, "Cheers?"

"To us, and snow."

"To us, snow, and this fireplace keeping us warm."

"I am thinking about other ways to keep you warm."

"Oh?" Seb raised his eyebrow suggestively as Lewis started kissing his neck.

"Unless you're too warm already."

"No, no, I am shivering still." Seb giggled, putting down his barely-touched glass for a second time, going back to what they were doing.

They took their moment looking at each other, losing themselves staring at each other's eyes - as they usually did.   
It was a habit so special and so intimate to them.  
Lewis always saw a certain aspect in Sebastian's eyes that left him breathless. Kindness and love and compassion that not many were capable of having - let alone showing with such vulnerability.

Lewis kissed Sebastian again before the German interrupted them once again.

" _Aglio, olio e peperoncino._ "

"Hm?"

"The vegan pasta you were looking for."

Lewis instantly broke out laughing loudly.

"Oh well, maybe _pasta al pomodoro_ , too, if you really want to be boring."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. You love me."

Lewis sighed, "Yeah, I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i don't know why i keep predicting shit, but i do!  
> today we have me manifesting sebastian and mark talking about him missing good pasta next year. i'm speechless tbh.


	5. be careful or you might fall - for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @sunshine-ricciardo who asked for carlando going ice skating!  
> hope you like it!
> 
> day five: carlos sainz jr/lando norris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really love this one! and if anyone can guess what show i am referencing in the first sentences you get a forehead kiss from yours truly.
> 
> enjoy! :)

Everything started with Lando gushing about going ice-skating. Something about an animated series he had watched, Carlos wasn't sure. Lando had rambled about it as he was trying to reply to a couple of important emails, distracting him as per usual.

"It will be fun!"

"You're gonna hurt yourself, _cabron_."

"No, I am not! I am an athlete!"

Carlos scoffed, "An athlete? Mate. Do I need to tell you again?"

"Yes, I know. ' _You're not an athlete!_ '" he mocked, sticking his tongue out, as he plonked down on the couch next to him.

Carlos laughed and wrapped his arm around Lando's shoulders, something he was accustomed to doing, especially in public, just in case someone recognized them. Even though they were alone, it still felt natural.

"Fine. We can go skate."

"Yay!" Lando jumped up and left the room, muttering something about being hungry.

Carlos shook his head lovingly, sometimes talking to Lando felt like talking to a child.  
Both positively and negatively. 

Sometimes it was frustrating to discuss certain topics with him, especially the ones he didn't like talking about.  
Whenever something upset him, he refused to properly sit down and talk. Instead, he'd cross his arms, he'd pout and give whoever he was upset with the silent treatment - even if the person he was mad at was himself.

And he'd tire himself pouting, trying his hardest not to laugh or smile at anything - out of spite - trying not to do what came so naturally to him.

Other times the childish personality Lando still carried made Carlos's heart clench in love and appreciation. His little voices, the little laughs, the way his eyes shrunk whenever he smiled.

Watching Lando sleep was an experience. He would curl into a ball and breathe out soundly. And Carlos would end up watching him sleep for a while, caressing his messy curls and catching his eyelashes fluttering once in a while.

That's when he looked the most innocent.

But Lando wasn't a child, even if he sometimes looked or acted like one. 

Carlos still couldn't help himself treating him a certain way, trying his best to protect him from anything and everything.  
It was a limit, a flaw in his eyes, in their relationship. Because Lando was big enough to take care of himself and always liked to remind him. And whenever he did, Lando liked underlining that he felt a lack of trust from Carlos.

Carlos never took it personally. He always reassured Lando he knew he could trust him, and it was just that he liked taking care of him.

Because Carlos knew Lando needed to grow and fall and learn from his mistakes on his own, he just couldn't help but try his best to avoid him falling at all. He just couldn't bear watching him get hurt. He just needed to let go of that mentality. Instead of preventing him from falling he'd try and offer a hand to help get back up. 

Was he capable of doing that? Maybe not all the time, but he'd sure try his best.

Lando ended up convincing him to go skating that same day. It only took a pout and eyelashes batting once or twice.

The ice rink was packed. Carlos joked about telling Lando it wasn't a good idea to go skating on a Friday night, earning a glare and a soft push.

They agreed to keep a platonic distance outside and around the rink and only allow themselves to get closer if no one recognized them.

"It must suck being as famous as Lewis or Alonso."

"Hm?"

"They get recognized all the time. Everywhere."

"We're lucky no one has recognized us."

"I don't think anyone will." Lando glanced around the ice rink as he finished tying his skates. 

"I hope you're right."

"The gift of obscurity, I guess."

"Do you think it's just us fueling our egos? Being scared people are going to recognize us?"

Lando scoffed, "I know it is."

As soon as they approached the ice, Lando started bouncing in excitement. 

It was quite funny watching Lando trying to keep his balance for the first ten minutes, and Carlos couldn't lie, he had had a bit of trouble with the ice, as well. But in the end, they both managed not to fall flat on their faces, and, instead, they became quite accustomed to the situation.  
So accustomed that when Lando joked about being an athlete, Carlos challenged him to a race.

The race had quickly resolved into the two of them just pushing each other and laughing, not really taking it seriously, and Carlos had to admit Lando's had been a great idea, after all.

"I was thinking of what we were talking about earlier," Lando spoke.

"And?"

"Poor Lewis can't even show himself with any woman without people speculating he's dating her."

Carlos laughed, "Oh, if people knew about us."

"We'd break the internet, sure, but I have a feeling nobody would believe it. I mean nobody at work, like the grownups." 

"What if there's video proof?"

"Of us together?"

"Yeah. Of us kissing."

"They'd just probably say it was you trying to punch me or something." Lando laughed as he spoke.

"I could punch you right now if you wanted."

The phrase took him by surprise, causing Lando to yelp and blush furiously.

Carlos towered over Lando, their bodies slightly pressing into each other, while Lando's back was up against the handrail.  
A hand made it up to Lando's cheek, softly caressing it before making it its secure spot.

"Oh, could you?" Lando breathed out.

They stood like that, with Carlos's forehead resting on Lando's, looking at each other before Lando closed his eyes, patiently waiting for Carlos to lean into a kiss.

But, instead of kissing him, Carlos grabbed his wrist, causing Lando to widen his eyes, and dragged him towards the middle of the ice rink, skating at full speed, barely hearing Lando's complaints over the loud music.

"Slow down, you muppet! You're gonna make us fall!"

Yes, Carlos thought, maybe Lando was childish at times. Maybe it was hard not taking care of him all the time.  
But Lando also brought out the silly and immature side of him that Carlos kept well hidden. 

And if he couldn't prevent Lando from falling anymore, then that meant they just had to fall together.


	6. a friend listens to you complain about your enemies, a good friend offers to punch them in the face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @steelgrayrain who asked for a cute moment between the williams boys  
> hope you like it!
> 
> day six: george russell & nicholas latifi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting it right now to hopefully manifest a good race for george!  
> just to clarify: in the tags "/" means romantic relationship, the "&" is for platonic relationships. jo, you gave me the option for both but since more n/g fluff is coming later in the challenge, i thought i'd give the platonic side a try too!

"I can't believe they signed him! Him! Out of all people!"

"It's really a shame."

"Callum was right there! Instead- that little-"

"George, breathe. Come on, it will be fine!"

"I hate that they chose him for the money. That's all that seems to matter nowadays."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, you know what I meant! I didn't mean you."

Nicholas laughed. "Just messing with you. Cheer up, come on! At least now you have the chance to beat him on the track."

George slouched on his chair. "I would have rather not."

Nicky patted his thigh. "You'll show him."

"We will," George stressed. "I know that. I just hope he doesn't start again with his rumors."

"What rumors?"

George glared at him, raising his eyebrows. 

"Oh, that one." Nicky realized what his teammate was implying.

"Don't start, please."

Nicholas threw his hands up. "I won't! I won't!" He paused, "But if you want, we can talk about it. You know I would never judge you, right?"

George slammed his forehead on the table in front of him and groaned desperately.

"Is that a yes?"

George moved his head, looking at Nicky with his temple still on the cold metal table. "I just don't want to talk about it right now."

"If you want to, though, I am here."

"Thanks, Nicky. I know."

"Do you?"

George raised an eyebrow at his teammate. Was he missing something - some underlying subtext - in this conversation?

"I know I can," He tried again.

"Good." Nicky got up and squeezed George's shoulder. "Come on, get up."

"Why?"

"We're going somewhere."

"Where?" 

"I don't know." Nicholas shrugged. "We'll figure it out as we walk. It will clear your head and stretch my muscles as well."

George smiled a bit as he got up, sighing slightly. 

* * *

They walked through the streets of Manama, appreciating the sight of the sky. Somehow the sunset had a different appeal in the desert.

It had been a while since he and Nicky had hung out casually. It's not that they didn't appreciate each other's company - on the contrary - they just never seemed to find enough time to see each other outside of work.

They talked about anything and everything, changing topics left and right, jumping between conversations every minute, and laughing about every stupid little thing. 

George felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest.  
He knew he had to deal with it at a certain point. It was a discussion to have. He just couldn't deal with it yet.  
But something unsaid was lingering in the air. Something George had always wondered. 

"Do you believe him?"

"Huh?"

"Do you believe, you know, what he said about me?"

"George, I don't believe anything. If you have something you want to tell me, then I'll listen. You're my friend. I am not making assumptions about you of any kind, let alone of your love life and your sexual preferences."

"But if you were to?"

"What exactly are you asking here?"

George groaned, throwing his head back and pushing his hands further in his pockets.

"You want me to guess if you're gay or not?"

"I want you to tell me if people _could_ guess."

"George, you've officially lost me."

"Do I act a certain way or say certain things that could make people wonder?"

Nicholas stopped in his tracks. "George, let it go. You're being ridiculous. You're fine. And what if an asshole really thinks you're gay? Would that really be the end of the world?"

George shook his head. Nicky gave him a smile, and he understood everything. It was his way of saying _'It's okay if you are'_ without putting George in the position of having to admit things he wasn't ready to confess.

Nicky's smile brightened when he saw George attempt one himself. 

"Because we are friends, right?" Nicholas asked tentatively.

"Of course, we are! What kinda question is that?"

"Just wanted to make sure."

"Just because I don't feel comfortable talking about it, yet-"

"No, no, George, don't worry about that. I was just checking you knew that if the asshole comes anywhere near you next year, I am punching him in the face."

"Awe, that's sweet - and terrifying. Remind me to never get in your way when you're cross." George chuckled. "I am sure Callum would appreciate it, too."

Nicholas laughed, too, before changing the topic and offering, "Are you up for some coffee?" He said as he wrapped his arm around George's shoulder.

"Yeah, sure."

They walked for a bit in comfortable silence, entered the first cafè they found, and ordered their drinks.

"Maybe I'll get some tea. It's actually quite chilly, for desert standards. Maybe it will warm us up." 

"Tea it is, then. It's on me."

"Well, if it's on you, then I am taking a large cup of hot cocoa with added marshmallows."

The two of them ordered their drinks from a visibly amused lady at the counter.

"I'll tell Aleix."

George's eyes widened, he overdramatically gasped. "You wouldn't!"

"Of course. As a friend, I am obliged to report to your trainer possible dangers to your health. Wouldn't want your form to be compromised for this race, would we?"

"You know, what? You're not my friend anymore. I take that back."

"It doesn't work like that. I am sorry. You are cursed now. You'll never get rid of me."

George shook his head as he raised his cup of hot cocoa. "I'll cheers to that, mate."

"To friendship curses." Nicholas mimicked his gesture.

"To annoying friends."

" _Hey!_ "


	7. i like messing with you - until you take it seriously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for my wifey @pierresteban who asked for these two french idiots christmas shopping. set in renault 202X  
> hope you like it! <3
> 
> day seven: pierre gasly & esteban ocon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting this to celebrate este's maiden podium!!

"Why do we have to this?"

"I don't know."

"It's just Christmas. Why are they making such a big deal out of it?"

"Do you want to ask another pointless question, or can we get on with it?" Pierre frustratingly asked.

Esteban glared at him, and Pierre added as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "The more you talk, the more we need to spend time with each other. Less talking, more thinking. If you can even do that."

"You're right, wouldn't want to see your face for too long."

People at Renault were organizing an early Christmas party, and Cyril had delegated - or actually forced - them to go pick up a few things, including a surprise cake for the mechanics who had to - as he himself had said - " _bear with your annoying asses._ "

And of course - as expected - the two French drivers couldn't agree on anything, first of all, the flavor of the cake.

"Chocolate."

"Chantilly."

Their heads snapped at each other.

"We're getting a Saint Honoré," Esteban imposed, scoffing.

"Why?" 

"Cause we're french? What did you want to get a fucking Sacher?"

Pierre frustratingly sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine, we're getting the Saint Honorè, but I am choosing the decorations."

"Suit yourself." Esteban laughed, raising his hands.

"Not like you have enough taste to do it."

They started looking for decorations immediately after the cake was successfully and uneventfully - more or less - pre-ordered.  
It took them longer than expected, mostly because Pierre was critically analyzing every article he picked up and putting them down with a shake of his head, unsatisfied.

Needless to say, Esteban started getting bored, so - to entertain himself - he resorted to messing with Pierre as much as he could, earning a lot of glares from his teammate.  
And Esteban giggled, pleased. Getting a reaction out of Pierre was definitely going to be his favorite hobby.

"Can't you move your ass?"

"Can you stop being an asshole?"

"Can't you be nice, for once?"

"You want _me_ to be nice to _you_?"

"What does that mean?"

"You know what, nevermind, let me finish what I need to finish, so I don't have to hear your voice anymore."

"No, you aren't going anywhere before you spill it, Gasly."

“You really want to know?"

"Would I waste my time asking if I didn’t?"

"You haven't apologized about the crash."

"What crash?"

"Oh, you know what crash."

He furrowed his brows before realizing what Pierre meant and immediately exclaiming, wide-eyed, "That was 15 years ago!"

"Exactly. You're late. You owe me a 15-year-old overdue apology."

"I actually didn't do that on purpose! But your egotistical brain told you that everyone has it against you, that everyone wants to see you fail, or wants to sabotage you. When that's not the case."

Pierre's expression dropped.  
When he didn't fight back, Esteban furrowed his eyebrows.

Where was the usual cynical, petty retort? Where was the rolling of eyes, and the scoff, and the glare?

"Pierre?"

"I am done here." He picked up the first things he found in front of himself and made his way towards the check-out line.

"Hey!" Esteban reached to grab his wrist. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Let me go," Pierre complained, trying to free his hand.

"Wait, are you mad? I thought we were banting, having fun messing with each other. I didn't think you'd actually take it seriously." Esteban tried to catch Pierre's fugitive eyes.

"Is that your way of apologizing? Blaming others' reactions instead of owning up to your actions?"

"Is this still about the crash? About the race you lost?"

"Fuck the race!" Pierre raised his voice. "I lost a friend that day."

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

"You could have apologized anyway. I don't know, maybe explained, and everything would have been different."

"You didn't want to talk to me. What, you wanted me to beg?"

"You're right, I am self-centered, and I do think everyone has it against me. It started exactly the day my friend betrayed me. But I am not going to apologize for being a kid and being mad and not trusting you anymore after that."

Esteban closed his eyes and sighed soundly. "I am sorry. I should have apologized anyway, even if it was an accident. You're right."  
Esteban let go of Pierre's wrist, watching his arm fall back to his side, then looked for his eyes a second time.

Pierre was silent for a while, biting the inside of his mouth, trying to think of what to say. He definitely didn’t expect an apology, let alone such a sincere one. "I am sorry, too. We were both kids, and I shouldn't have forgotten that."

Esteban smiled and caused Pierre to unintentionally do the same.

"Are we friends again now?"

Pierre smirked, closed his eyes, and raised his head to the side. "We'll see."

Esteban scoffed, "Idiot. Are you getting those? I thought you preferred the darker green balloons?"

Pierre looked down at the ones he chose. "Oh yeah, this green is ugly."

The two of them laughed and went back to the decorations aisle to switch for the correct shade of balloons. Esteban joked about Pierre taking forever, as they finally bought them, and left.

"I am driving," Pierre announced, stealing the keys from Esteban's hands.

"Why?" 

"Cause unfortunately I have seen the way you drive. And for way too long, already."

Esteban laughed and shook his head.  
Some things would never change.


	8. santa just drooled on my doorstep - but at least my gift is here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @felltoabove who asked for a bit of matchmaking made by our favorite little angel, roscoe <3  
> hope you like it!
> 
> day eight: lewis hamilton/nico rosberg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO HAPPY LEWIS GAVE US A SIGN TODAY. hopefully we can see him in abu dhabi <3

A loud bark woke him from the afternoon haze his mind was in, but he didn't recognize it as Bailey's.  
He rolled his eyes and glanced at his phone. It was probably time for dinner, not that he cared enough to get up.

He had woken up pretty early, as usual, and finished answering emails early, as usual.

Needless to say, Nico felt quite understimulated.

The loud bark broke his desperate silence again. And again.

He got up frustrated, throwing his phone on the sofa. Bailey was still asleep, thankfully. His head wasn't ready for two dogs barking at each other.

He investigated the noise, trying to look for the source of it.  
He spied from his door peephole.

"Oh, no."

There he found the little culprit, a dog he was - unfortunately - very familiar with.

He opened his door and let the dog inside.  
"What exactly are you doing here?"

He sat down to rub Roscoe's head.

"It's been a while since I've seen you, huh?"

A little bark and a tail wag were all he needed to feel his past suddenly slam in his face. 

Who knew a dog could bring such despair.

He spent a few minutes watching Bailey and Roscoe play together. A smile reached his face only in time for it to fade.

Lewis was probably worried sick.

He sighed. He really had to do this, didn't he?  
He picked up his phone, looked at the unlisted number he still knew by heart and dialed it.

Lewis showed up at his door not even a minute later. Nico's heart clenched at Lewis's tired eyes. 

So he was right. He had been worried sick. 

"Is he here?" 

Nico was taken aback, slightly offended. He could have at least said hello. Nonetheless, he opened the door further. "He's playing with Bailey in the living room."

Lewis wasted no time rushing to the dogs, he knelt down, and pet them both. 

Nico stared at him as he smiled at their respective pets. He broke the silence before he could lose himself staring at his old teammate.

"Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee, please."

Nico didn't know why he asked, and he didn't know why Lewis accepted, either.  
He was supposed to politely decline, say _no, thank you _, and leave, happily reunited with Roscoe.__

__Instead, they spent the evening together, casually eating dinner that Lewis thoughtfully helped prepare._ _

__It felt like older and easier times. Being teenagers and young adults again and spending post-karting evenings together, laughing about whatever, being able to talk about anything, and never getting bored._ _

__It was weird but nice in an oddly familiar way. But Nico really didn’t want to get used to it. He didn’t think it would last._ _

__On the contrary to his belief, Lewis and Nico ended up hanging out again many more times. It always seemed to be at Nico's, but the blond didn't question it too much._ _

__They'd talk, laugh, watch a movie, let the dogs play, eat lunch, dinner together._ _

__And just like that - somehow - December flew away, day after day spent with Lewis doing whatever and whenever, and suddenly it was already Christmas._ _

__It was Christmas eve when Nico's doorbell rang at the usual time. What was unusual, though, was a small package Lewis was carrying._ _

__"For you."_ _

__Nico didn't know what to say. He was caught by surprise. And by a bit of annoyance. Of course, Lewis had to think about getting a present._ _

__"Thank you for calling me that day," Lewis spoke, distracting Nico from his thoughts._ _

__"You thought I was going to steal your dog?"_ _

__"Well, he is really cute."_ _

__"Bailey is cuter."_ _

__"Do you really need to turn everything into a competition, Nico?" If it had been someone else, he would have laughed. But it was Lewis. Of course, his words had to have a second meaning, hidden somewhere between the lines._ _

__Nico sighed. There it went. The truce was over.  
"Do you really want to do this now, Lewis? Can't we just pretend?"_ _

__"Pretend what? That we're friends? That we are not sworn enemies?"_ _

__"We are not sworn enemies."_ _

__"Then why did you always act like I was?"_ _

__"I thought you didn't care," he said sarcastically, and Lewis didn't miss the accusatory tone._ _

__"You know that's not true."_ _

__"You said it, Lewis, not me."_ _

__"You know what? Nevermind. We can't even be civil on Christmas."_ _

__"You just had to bring it up, didn't you? Always trying to be the bigger person."_ _

__"Are you actually kidding me right now? You are doing it again! You have a problem! You turn everything into a competition." Lewis shook his head as he spoke, "And yet you ran as soon as I presented you a challenge."_ _

__Nico's heart stung. Lewis just had to mention it. "You're impossible."_ _

__"Why are you _really_ mad at me, Nico?"_ _

__He wasn't sure anymore.  
Was it jealousy? Was it envy? Or was it the terrifying feeling that had rushed between them way too many times? That had left him sleepless and frustrated?  
He sighed out loud, not daring to meet Lewis's eyes._ _

__"You should leave."_ _

__"See? You're doing it again. Maybe it's you that doesn't care about me, after all."_ _

__Nico grabbed Lewis's wrist. "Don't say that when you know _exactly_ what the truth is."_ _

__"Then what is the truth? I gave you the chance to show me, and you chickened out. You are scared. Scared of me and what I can do to you. You are scared of how you really feel towards me. Be honest. Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth."_ _

__"Fuck you, Lewis. Everything has to be about you."_ _

__Lewis chuckled, "You really can't deal with me being right. You can't accept it that I know you, and I know how you feel."_ _

__"Because you always know everything?"_ _

__"Because I feel the same."_ _

__Nico closed his eyes. He really couldn't look at Lewis._ _

__"Tell me I am wrong. Tell me I am dreaming. Tell me I am making this all up."_ _

__Nico reopened his eyes to find Lewis laying his head on the headrest, staring at the blank grey ceiling in Nico's living room._ _

__When Lewis dared to turn his head to look at him, Nico lost it completely.  
He wished he had the courage to tell Lewis how beautiful he looked, how much he had missed him, and how his presence had lightened up his dull life._ _

__But no coherent words were able to leave his mouth, so he did the next best thing he could have done - he did what Lewis asked him to do - show him what he meant to him. And he kissed him._ _

__And he expected many things, a yell, a cry, a slap, a laugh._ _

__But he had never thought he'd feel Lewis's hand on his cheek, his lips, his tongue on his. He'd never have thought he'd catch Lewis smiling at him with his forehead resting on his._ _

__And he'd never thought he'd wake up the next day sleeping next to him, seeing his morning face, with his puffy eyes and hearing his roughed voice._ _

__"Merry Christmas."_ _

__Nico couldn't help but chuckle, "Merry Christmas. What time is it?"_ _

__"Ten-ish, I think."_ _

__"Mh."_ _

__"I need to leave in a while. My parents are coming over."_ _

__"Didn't fancy going back to London?"_ _

__"I was supposed to. I just had a few _distractions_."_ _

__Nico laughed. "A few?"_ _

__"Just one."_ _

__"Do you want breakfast before you leave?"_ _

__"Can we stay in bed a bit more?"_ _

__"Thought you were in a rush?"_ _

__"Oh no, no rush. There's plenty of time before they get here. What about you? Your parents coming?"_ _

__"Yeah, but they invited me over in the evening."_ _

__"Do you want to come to lunch with us?"_ _

__"With your parents?"_ _

__Lewis nodded, smiling up at him._ _

__"Don't they hate me?"_ _

__"My parents? No, of course not.”_ _

__Nico gave him a look._ _

__"Okay, maybe my mom," Lewis insisted, "but just a little!"_ _

__Nico laughed. It seemed almost as if their teenage years were back again.  
And he just needed to thank Roscoe for it._ _


	9. i fell in love like in the books you talk about - and annoy me with

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @wolfsbanesbite who asked for a simi bookstore au, hope you like it!
> 
> day 9: sebastian vettel/kimi raikkonen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have never written about kimi, mostly because i don't vibe with him - for obv reasons - but this was fun anyway! plus i did god's work and made his favorite author be an antifascist comunist so a new order was established ;)

It started with Kimi going to a random bookshop. He had wanted to desperately find the inspiration he lacked lately.

He picked a few books and approached the counter to pay. When the shopkeeper didn't give him attention, he put the books down, perhaps too quickly, causing the blond man in front of him to jump slightly and exclaim, amused.

"Very aggressive."

Kimi noticed the book that the storekeeper had been giving his full attention to and couldn't help but comment.  
"I thought that was a book that only teen girls read?"

"Then I must be a teen girl at heart." Came the quick reply from the shopkeeper.

"I thought you would actually have good taste in literature, running in this place and all."

Kimi paid and left, slightly amused at the interaction, even with no reply back. He didn't care too much about what a random man thought about him, anyway. Not that he'd find himself going back to that place ever again.

* * *

Well, Kimi showed up again. Somehow. He had to get a present for one of his students. Giving books to his top students as a competition had quickly become a tradition.

But even when the semester was over, the exam sessions long ended, and the book assigned to Antonio, as usual, Kimi found himself passing by the street and not resisting to go in the store. 

Of course, it was just because he loved to go through books, and their scent was addicting.

Of course.

And he interacted with the shopkeeper every time. The young blond he sometimes caught staring always flashed him a smile and offered a witty reply deign to Kimi's retorts.

One day, on a late autumn evening, he found the young man sat on the counter, swinging his legs from side to side.

"Do you act this way at home, too?" Kimi joked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

He rolled his eyes at the man in front of him, as he usually did.

"Oh well, this is kind of my home." 

Kimi saw an unusual sad expression flash over him. He had to admit it didn't suit the shopkeeper at all. He liked him better smiling and provocative. Borderline flirting.

"What's your favorite book?" 

Kimi usually groaned internally at having to speak, but somehow the question was easier to answer that time.

"The Stranger, by Albert Camus."

"Ooh, deep."

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Nope. Great book. But I do have a problem with people who think their books are better than others."

"Still mad about my _Song of Achilles_ diss?"

"Yes."

"Is that your favorite book?"

"Close second."

"What's your favorite book then?"

"I won't tell you."

Kimi shrugged and left, not saying a word. This time slightly irritated. He had no time for games.

* * *

He didn't know why he kept going back. He didn't know why the blond man that sat and played among dusty books was so magnetic.  
There was absolutely no reason for him to be back at the store. He had promised himself he'd just walk by, check that he was alright - he didn't even know why he cared at all - and leave.

Of course, he hadn't maintained his own promise. Instead, he had entered the shop and waited a few minutes for the cheerful shopkeeper to greet him as usual.

But the greetings didn't come. The smile was replaced by a glare and the bubbly words by uncomfortable silence.

"Come on, you can't still be mad," Kimi said before even thinking about it. 

Where had that come from?

Nothing.  
Silence.

Kimi groaned. That was painful. He genuinely didn't remember the last time he had wanted someone to speak.

"Fine! I am sorry! I'll read it. I'll give it a chance."

He could have paid gold to rewatch the face the blond man made. The way his eyebrows raised in pleased surprise, the sight of him biting his bottom lip with a smile peeking through. Even the small squeal that left his lips.

* * *

Saying the book caught him by surprise was an understatement.  
It was much rawer and more real and intense than what he had ever imagined.

He didn't even remember why it had such a bad reputation. Maybe it was just tired old critics trying to kill younger talents and innovation, always pushing for classics, instead of trying to find new masterpieces.

Kimi spent his nights reading it either with him, whose name he had learned was Sebastian, or by himself, never forgetting to keep observations in his notebook and bringing them up to the blond man the next day over a cup of coffee.

Just like that, days, weeks passed. They read and laughed and shared sounds he had never even thought his vocal cords could even produce. 

But he had also never thought he'd feel his heart speed the way it did whenever Sebastian smiled.  
He shined the most whenever they talked about the book he was so in love with, and Kimi slowly felt his sanity slip away, a smile after another.  
Entranced by his passionate eyes and his brilliant words.

Kimi was way too smart not to know what was happening to him. Why his breath so often stuck to his throat.

* * *

"I cannot accept this," Kimi argued with Sebastian. 

"Yes, you can, and you should." 

It was Christmas eve, they had been hanging out as per usual when Sebastian had made him close his eyes, and Kimi's mind had gone to a dark place.  
Unfortunately, the situation had not resolved in the way he had hoped, but the alternative outcome had been sweet anyway.

Sebastian had handed him his copy of The Song Of Achilles, the signed one he always put on display in his store. 

"Isn't it your treasured copy?"

"Yes, but I really want you to have it."

Kimi noticed there was an added note from Sebastian. He vowed to read it later.

"You kept me company when I needed it the most." 

Suddenly, just like that, Sebastian told him about his loneliness, about feeling lost, and about not having any real friends outside of the characters of his books.

Kimi sat there and listened, astonished. Sebastian had seemed so sure, so full of himself, so sociable, so outgoing. But at that moment, he could only see loneliness and aery sorrow in his eyes.

The vulnerability of Sebastian's confession trapped him. It undressed him of pride and cold facades. 

He felt the urge to hug him, and so he did. He let himself go. He didn't even remember when he had done that the last time.

"You should read the note."

"Now?"

"If you want."

_"I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth."_

It was a quote from the book. Kimi recognized it immediately.  
He looked up at Sebastian, who had listened to him read it with closed eyes.

"I'll let you if that's your wish." He spoke out of pure courage. Was he interpreting the quote right? Maybe Sebastian hadn't meant-

Almost as if he had read his thoughts, Sebastian's lips interrupted him and suddenly his stomach was set on fire.

When he pulled away, the glint in Sebastian's eyes grew stronger, the one he recognized from the sleepless nights spent reading together. His own heart melted.

"The Passion Of Artemisia."

"Huh?"

"My favorite book," Sebastian admitted, smiling brightly.

"Okay," Kimi nodded quickly, still lost in Sebastian's eyes, "We'll read that, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, both the song of achilles and the passion of artemisia are my favorite books :,)


	10. you push me away but i’ll come back - everytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @widdajan who asked me for george and alex hurt/comfort.   
> i am giving you emotional hurt comfort set after the sakhir gp because i like to hurt u in the feels.  
> hope you like it!
> 
> day ten: alexander albon/george russell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my absolute favorite for now. tried something different with present clause. feedback is much more appreciated this time! :)

George is gutted, destroyed, and Alex doesn't know what to do.  
He shuts him out. He doesn't want to talk to him.

"George, please-" He tries.

But the only thing he hears is a broken, "Leave me alone," as he watches him run.

George is like that, and Alex knows. When he is sad, he doesn't want to see anyone. He is afraid people will judge him, think he's weak, but Alex wants, craves to be there for him.  
Not like he could ever think George is anything other than one of the strongest people he knows.

It's just a flaw in George's character, and he knows it himself, but he's told Alex before he just can't help it.  
It's just that he is like that when he's upset, and, right now, he's nothing short of devastated.

Alex somehow sneaks past everyone and follows him. Only Toto catches his presence. Alex sees a small smile, maybe - or maybe he is just tired and overheated and has hallucinated it.

His head tips towards the door of George's room, and he leaves, just like that, with no words for Alex, just a surprised expression and a pat on his shoulder.

It takes a second for Alex to snap out of his confusion, and when he does, he knocks on the door softly and calls out, "George?"

He hears a few sniffles when the door opens. When Alex looks at him, his heart breaks.

George doesn't look at him in the eyes, and Alex assumes it's his way of trying to hide his red eyes.

"Oh, George."

He steps inside and closes the door behind him.

George is moving around the room, trying his best to get out of Alex's grasp, but he doesn't desist.

He offers his hand out and calls his name once again.

"I'm fine."

"You don't have to pretend with me."

Alex sits down on the bed and tilts his head, looking at him in the eyes.

George sighs. He plonks down on the bed, and Alex wastes no time wrapping him in a big hug.

George may be evasive whenever he is upset, but Alex knows his ways with him - he's the only one who does.

And his scent acts like a magnet, and his arms act like superglue.

George is finally captured, and Alex won't let go.

"I am so sorry that happened."

George just nods. Alex tries something else.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He feels George's head shake the other way, so he sighs.

"George, if something upsets you, it's better if you talk it out."

"I am just frustrated."

"I know you are. Let it all out."

"I did. I am fine now." He knows Alex's ears are liar detectors, so he doesn't even know why he said that.

He meets Alex's eyes only to find a glare.

Oh well, he tried.

"Come here," Alex tries again as he lies down on the bed, firmly taking George with him.

"I am so mad."

"At who?"

"The universe."

"Not the mechanics?"

"No, it was an honest mistake."

Alex smiles. Of course, George isn't mad at the only responsible people for his bad result.

"Not at yourself?"

George shakes his head and looks up at him with big, childlike eyes, "Should I?"

"No, dear, you definitely shouldn't." Alex kisses his temple and closes his own eyes as he speaks.

Truth is, he's tired as well. His own future is on the line, but George has listened to his troubles so many times - he always does - it's only fair Alex listens this time.

"I told you something was going to go wrong. But you - everyone - you guys said I was going to win."

"You feel as if we jinxed it?"

"No, I feel like I let you all down."

"George," Alex sighs, "But it isn't-"

"My fault, I know. Still-" George whines and breaks away from him. He buries his face in the pillow and groans, trying his best to muffle the noise.

Alex can't help but sit there, beside him, running his fingers through George's short hair, softly caressing his head.  
He also can't help but feel useless, and he feels very defeated when he hears George's breath quicken.

He is debating whether he should be leaving the room because he knows George will get himself sick trying not to cry.  
But Alex wants to break that barrier between them. He doesn't want to give up, yet. He wants George to know it's okay to let go, that he would never judge him, and that Alex loved him even when he cried.

So he tried again, "Let it all out, it's fine, it's okay if you cry. Let it all out, George, please. Trust me. You'll feel better. Let me be there for you."

So George finally lets go of the pillow and instead buries himself in Alex's lap.  
He cries and sobs and shakes, and Alex wishes he had a blanket to cover George with.

His fingers move from his hair to his wet cheek, softly stroking it, hoping it would make the pain that comes with the tears fade away.

Alex wants everything to fade away, the pain, the pressure, the anxiety, the world. He just wants to be left alone with George and all of the love he has for him.

And the love is so big, so huge, it can match with everything else combined, and Alex will gladly let it replace anything negative in their life.

"You deserve nothing but love, nothing but success. You'll flourish, love. Every sacrifice will be repaid to you. I know it. Do you trust me?"

And George nods, his sobs have quieted down, but tears still run down.

"You'll be a champion, George. The future is bright. You are a star. Your talent is so bright, and everyone sees it. And the people that disagree are jealous of the power it has. Jealous because you've blinded them all."

Alex can now hear a few sniffles, and his thumb doesn't catch the tears falling anymore.

He leans into George and gives him a kiss on the side of his head.

A seal of protection and of promise.

"I love you." Comes his response.

And Alex smiles, that's all he needs to hear.


	11. sometimes even angels can be bad - sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for my lovely friend maria @georgerussellls who came up with the beautiful concept of maxiel angel au   
> hope you like it <3
> 
> day eleven: daniel ricciardo/max verstappen

"Come on, Daniel! Just say you're sorry, and I am sure they'll forgive you."

"I won't say sorry."

"Why not?"

"Because I am not!"

"Danny!"

"I did nothing wrong! I only spoke my mind."

Michael yelled from one end of the hallway, "Don't you remember what happened when someone last did that?"

Daniel didn't even look back at his friend. He continued strutting down the long candid corridor, the sound of his stubborn steps resonating in the aery atmosphere.

He was done being a good guy. He was going to do all the things he was always told were prohibited. He was going to be the most rebellious angel in the universe. And he was going to do it out of spite.

Daniel ran. He just wanted to feel free.  
He could feel his feet hurt and his lungs on fire.  
But he kept running.

* * *

Daniel somehow ended up among bars and drunk people. His rebel instincts paved the way.

He smirked to himself. He was free. He'd do whatever he wanted because he could.

So he listened to his conscience, to his sixth sense, his rebel heart, and he entered a random bar.

Daniel was a party animal, he found out himself soon enough, after a drink - or two. 

Drinking gave him an added layer of courage and dancing and socializing - in the best way he could.

The night went by, among hands roaming, sweat, and loud music he had never heard before.

At a certain point, Daniel started feeling slightly dizzy. He heard someone telling him to go outside, and he felt a hand in his, dragging him out. 

"Are you okay?"

Daniel heard someone say as he found himself sitting on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, a bit dizzy."

"Maybe some fresher air would help?" 

"Huh?"

"Come with me." The stranger offered a hand, and Daniel grabbed it without thinking twice.

"Where are we going?"

"By the sea."

"You're gonna drown me?"

"Nah, mate. If I wanted you dead, I'd have left you inside."

The stranger led him somewhere quiet and helped him sit down. The sand was damp, and it immediately stuck to his shorts. Daniel wanted to complain, but no coherent words left his mouth.

He finally took a good look at the stranger as he sat next to him. Daniel had to contain himself from embarrassing himself with his appreciations of the man who had saved him from drowning in alcohol.  
Instead, he clumsily introduced himself.  
"I'm Daniel."

"Max."

"Just Max?"

"Just Max."

"I like it."

"Thank you, Daniel."

"You're welcome, mate."

"Tough night?"

"You could say. I guess I just needed to feel free."

"By drinking and flirting with strangers? How did that work for you?"

"I mean, I am sitting with a hot guy by the sea, romantically looking at the moon. I think you could say it worked just fine."

Max laughed. "That's fair."

"Unless you-"

"No, no. I agree, it worked perfectly." Max turned his head to smile at him, and Daniel realized he had missed a crucial detail.

"What happened to your eye?"

"Ah! It's nothing."

"It's purple. It's not nothing."

Max only sighed, so Daniel asked. "Did you get into a fight?"

"Not really. It's complicated."

"Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Random stranger at the bar?"

"My father."

"Oh, I am sorry."

"It's okay. Really! We have some issues."

"Oh, that I can clearly see."

Max chuckled, and Daniel followed along. 

"I can understand. I mean, not exactly, but- you know?"

"You do?"

Talk about an oppressive father. Daniel bitterly chuckled as he thought to himself. _If only he knew._

"I get you don't want to talk about it, right?" Max asked.

"No, do you?"

"I'd rather not. It's such a good night. Wouldn't want to ruin it."

"Good night?"

"Yeah."

"With a black eye?"

"With a hot guy. You said it yourself earlier."

"You surely know how to charm a man." Daniel laughed. "But I have an idea to make this night better."

"Mh?" 

Daniel leaned in and placed his lips on his, tenderly. Scared at first.   
Only when Max took hold of his waist, bringing him closer to himself, Daniel deepened the kiss, letting himself go, melting in the arms of the beautiful stranger under the pale moonlight.

And only when Daniel started shivering Max broke the kiss, smiling lovingly and asking worriedly. "Do you need a lift home?"

"I- huh, I actually don't live near here."

"Where are you going to stay then? Any friends?"

Daniel threw himself back in the sand, giggling, and closing his eyes, "Here! I am going to sleep here."

"You're going to catch a cold!"

Daniel almost laughed again. He really wanted to tell Max he couldn't catch an actual cold, but he didn't.   
"I'll be fine."

"Come to my place then."

Daniel raised his eyebrows, amused. 

"Not like that! Jesus!" Max complained. "It would make me less guilty about leaving you drunk in the middle of a city you don't know."

"Well, if you offer so nicely, how can a guy resist?"

Max shook his head, his smile never fading.

On the way to Max's apartment, Daniel wrapped his arm around Max's, laughing and joking, casually flirting and lightly pushing each other as they walked.

"Ooh, nice place! Are you rich or something?"

Max chuckled, "I guess?"   
Where had Daniel come from? Did he even know he was in Monaco? Was the guy clueless, pretending and messing with him, or was he just that drunk?

"Where's the bathroom?"

"By my room, on the right."

"'Kay, 'kay." Daniel happily trotted away as Max shook his head, laughing by himself.

He made his way towards his room, and soon Daniel showed up, never forgetting to bring his radiant grin with him.

"And there was only one bed?" Daniel joked.

"There's the couch," Max offered, smirking.

"Oh, but you wouldn't let my poor, drunk, sad self alone on the couch tonight," Daniel threw himself on the bed as he spoke. "Would you?"

"You don't seem very sad to me."

"Oh, but I am!" He overdramatically pouted.

Max stared at his lips, and Daniel noticed. Daniel knew. "You can kiss me, you know?"

And so Max did. He leaned in, and Daniel's heart stopped.   
Again, again, and again.

Daniel smiled at him, and Max's eyes glistened. Daniel sighed happily, wrapping his arms around him.

"You can do whatever you want."

"You're drunk."

"Not that much."

"Liar."

"Angels don't lie."

"Angels." Max laughed.

"Why are you laughing? I am serious," Daniel deadpanned.

"Mate, what was it about not being drunk?"

"Want me to prove it to you?"

"Sure, angel," Max chuckled again before gasping, with his eyes widening and his jaw dropping.

Daniel had wings. Daniel had fucking wings.  
White wings that glistened slightly, like the ones artists painted.  
Daniel was art.

"Did someone put something in my drink?"

Daniel laughed. "No, you idiot. I told you. I am an angel. Well, I wasn't supposed to admit it, but- too late, I guess." He shrugged casually. He really didn't care. He was a rebel, after all.

"Is that why you don't know where you were? Or why you said you needed to feel free?"

"Yeah, I had a bit of a fight with some other guys, a bit higher up in the hierarchy."

"You were thrown out of heaven?"

"No, you idiot. I left voluntarily. And also, it's not heaven."

"But-"

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Can I touch them?"

"Sure."

Max ran his hand through Daniel's soft wings, as he kept him between his legs, lying against him, with his face buried in his neck.

Max was shocked. He didn't know what to say or what to think, a part of his brain still believing he was dreaming or hallucinating.

"Am I blessed now or something?" He spoke with his mouth buried in Daniel's curls.

Daniel couldn't help but giggle, "I don't think it works that way, mate." He reached out to turn off the light.

"So heaven and hell exist?"

"No comment."

"I thought you were supposed to be the rebellious one?"

"Yes, but where's the fun if I tell you?"

"I guess you're right."

"It's definitely not what everyone thinks it is."

"Do you talk to God? Is he your father? Will I have to ask for his permission to date you or something?"

Daniel laughed. "You're adorable."   
He reached out to kiss him again before placing his head back on Max's chest and closing his eyes.

After a few moments of silence, Max spoke again, "I was serious, you know."

"Goodnight, Max."


	12. i'll be glad to have you back - not that you ever left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @lovelylittlelionx who asked for some fluff.  
> i tried to give you something a bit more different, hope you like it!
> 
> day twelve: nicholas latifi/george russell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're half way! :)

"It's glad to be back, Nicky."

"What do you mean? You never left."

* * *

Everywhere you go, I am there with you, for you.

When the day is bright, and the skies are gray. I love you in the morning, in the afternoon, when I look at the moon and remember the way you talk about it, the random facts you know and annoy me with.  
The way you try to outwit me every time, only ending up making us both laugh at how stupid we sound using big words.

I miss being the first thing you see in the morning. I miss seeing your puffy eyes and play with your messy hair. I miss being the first thing on your lips and the last thing you name before falling asleep.

But you're still with me, anyway, anywhere. 

I miss the little things you do, but how can I miss you when you're with me even kilometers away?

I love you. To the moon and back. To the track and beyond. I love when I see you smile and laugh. When you're mad at me and give me the silent treatment. When you show me the pout I always want to kiss. When you're yourself and when I don't recognize you. 

The hotel bed is cold without you, but my heart is always warm. My body too - thank God, I can finally sleep covered with sheets you always take off of me.

Our life is so fast, one day we're somewhere, one day we're on the opposite side of the world. But wherever we go, whoever we are with, I'll never feel alone.  
Not truly, at least. 

Till we see each other again, hope a few words on a page help you feel a little less alone. Your place in my heart is enough for me.

Hope you have fun while you're away. (But just enough fun to feel that it was worth it, not too much to totally forget about me, of course.)

Be safe, smile, and don't forget to think about me, too. 

I already know I will.

Love, Nicholas.

* * *

George sits on his hotel bed, smiling and biting his lip.  
He sighs and looks at the moon, he has a wonderful joke he wishes he could have made Nicky roll his eyes with.

He holds the letter to his chest.  
Just a few days. He'll annoy his lover in just a few days.


	13. i promise you i'll be here forever - actually, i'll bet on it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon who asked for a domestic moment between these two idiots<3  
> it was really fun to write, thank you for the lovely prompt, it was one of my faves!
> 
> day thirteen: lando norris/carlos sainz jr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry, this was supposed to be yesterday's chapter but i was hit with the sudden post-race understimulating wave.
> 
> hopefully i'll catch up soon. wish me luck.
> 
> enjoy!

Lando hears stirring. He is finally waking up.  
He stares at the ceiling and refuses to look to his right.  
He can't look at him, or he'll cry.  
It’s a bit pathetic, but so be it.  
He is past really caring about it.

He quickly gets out of bed as he hears a faint grunt coming from the bed. He's not running away. He just needs the toilet.

Okay, maybe he’s running away. But just a little bit.

He turns on the tap, his eyes still barely open. They burn slightly, they’re bloodshot - Lando will bet on it - he’s also sure the pillow is slightly damp and he’ll have to place it down on the other side, just to be sure. Thank God for white hotel sheets, right?

He washes his face, and the water is not necessarily cold, but it still sends shivers down his spine.  
Why is it so cold in the desert? He remembers Carlos telling him to turn off the air conditioning the previous night. Ops. He forgot about that.

He is washing his teeth when he sees Carlos's reflection in the mirror, eventually getting in the bathroom.

Before he can protest or leave, his arms are wrapped around his waist. He is trapped, like every morning and every night. It usually doesn't bother him. 

"Good morning."

He tries to reply coherently through the toothbrush, but he fails, and Carlos laughs, amused.

He loves making him laugh, it takes a lot of auto control not to giggle back.

Carlos leaves a kiss in the crook of his neck, and Lando can't help but smile, even as much as he doesn't want to.

Carlos hands him a razor, as he usually does every morning.  
It makes Lando smile again, and it pains him a little in his pride.

It's their routine, one of the small things they do together out of habit.

They do it together, standing next to each other, not saying a word.  
Lando appreciates the company, he doesn't care if they don't speak, he doesn't need him to.

Carlos is one of the only people he can be like this with. No pressure to be funny, no pressure to be uplifting every second.  
He needs someone with who he can be casual. He needs someone with who he can sit in comfortable silence.

Carlos does that for him. He fills the room with his presence. He doesn't need to speak, he just understands. And if he needs him to, he does. If he needs him, he's there.  
His presence is crucial, and Lando can't do anything about it.

So they end up doing everything together, the small things especially.

He shaves every other day.  
He doesn't even need to do it as often, but he still does. He is not sure why.

And maybe he does it to fit in with Carlos, or maybe to feel a little more adult.

Or maybe it's both. Maybe the two things match more than he thinks.

Carlos is just a few years older, but the difference is there, and it shows.

And it's not about Carlos - Carlos is fine, he looks his age, he acts his age, he just doesn't show his funniest part all the time. 

It's about him. About how he looks - feels sixteen.

Because it isn't about his physical appearance. It isn't the beard he can't grow.

It never bothered him, not the beard, not the young face.  
Because Lando thinks he looks okay - good if he really tries.

It's the way people don't take him seriously that infuriates him. It makes him feel as if he's not enough. As if he is still a kid and what he says is always a joke.

And sometimes he does feel sixteen.  
He can't help make dumb jokes and laugh during meetings. And maybe he's really lucky that he has found an environment where he can flourish even as a sixteen-year-old who never stops smiling. Maybe he's ungrateful.

But other times, Lando feels like he has lived three lives, and he's exhausted. 

But Carlos helps. He always helps.

"Are you tired?"

"I just woke up."

"Did you not sleep well?"

"I slept fine."

Carlos starts tickling him, and Lando tries his best to look annoyed, but a giggle escapes his lips anyway.

"What's wrong, _cariño_?"

"Nothing."

"Lando."

Lando whines, "I don't want this to end."

Carlos understands, Lando doesn't need to explain what he means. He knows, he gets it, and he feels the same way.

"Nothing's going to change."

"You know that's not true."

"Don't say that. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Carlos rinses his face and places a soft kiss on Lando's shoulder.  
"You'll see."

"So now it's a threat?"

"Something like that. Maybe a bet?"

"A bet?"

"What should we bet? A glass of milk?"

"I can get that on my own."

"I'll buy you a cow."

"A cow?" Lando laughs.

"What shall we name it?"

"Carlos?" Lando suggests.

"Wasn't that the squirrel?"

"Zak," Lando cackles, "or Andreas."

"Don't tell them, though."

"I can say you named it."

"Nah, mate, I will spy on you."

Lando gasps overdramatically. "You wouldn't! You know what? I am not talking to you. I don't want the cow anymore."

"Oh, so you wanted it?"

"Shut up."

"Shut up," Carlos mocks, before leaning in and kissing his eyelid. 

Lando almost melts. His arms immediately wrap around his waist and sit on the small of his back.

" _Te amo_ ," Lando attempts.

His breath sticks to his throat when he feels Carlos's heart pace quicken against his chest. "Maybe you mean _te quiero_?" Carlos suggests.

"No, I mean what I said."

Carlos raises his eyebrows in hopeful surprise and chuckles when Lando grumpily complains, "I know the difference, I am not dumb."

"Are you sure, _amor_?"

"Keep your cow and your kisses to yourself." He pushes Carlos jokingly when he leans in and runs away when he follows giggling.

He can be a kid with Carlos, he can be a middle-aged man, he can be a granny. He can be whatever he wants, whoever he wants.  
He is sure, he is safe, and he's desperately in love.

And he should trust him. Because he wants Carlos to be right, to stay with him, love him, laugh with him even when he'll be farther away.  
He desperately needs him to be right.

Besides, having a cow sounds really cool.


	14. i'll tell you just how much i love you - actually, i'll recite it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @abedsmessedupmeta, who asked for: "Person A doesn't show affection easily. On time when they cuddle before falling asleep together, person A whispers Shakespeare's 75 sonnet into person B's ear."
> 
> hope you like it!
> 
> day fourteen: max verstappen/daniel ricciardo

"There should be a sixth love language just for you."

"Huh?"

"Passive-aggressive insulting."

Max frowned, raising his head from the pillow in the dark. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, you're just not very outspoken when it comes to being appreciative."

"Appreciative to?"

"To me."

Max's heart stung. He hadn't expected anything like that.  
He wasn't going to lie, it hurt him.  
Daniel knew how much his words meant to him, how much his love and care and character meant to him. Why did he feel the need to say something like that?

He turned to the other side, facing the wall, not saying a word.  
He said nothing. He didn't want to fight.  
He was too tired. Too tired to speak, to think, to criticize himself, to apologize.

"I was joking."

Silence. He didn't believe it for a second. Daniel never joked at 3 in the morning. He never joked when it came to them. It was just an excuse. Trying to amend what he knew came out wrong.

"Max?"

Daniel sighed. He knew it was useless trying to talk to Max when he was like that. But he also didn't want to let him go to sleep with a grudge. It was unhealthy. Daniel was scared of letting nights like that rot their relationship. He should have worded it differently, chosen a different moment.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk, but can you just come closer?"

Max scooted back, letting Daniel wrap his arms around him anyway.

It was fine. It was okay. Max wasn't mad. How could he be mad at him? If Daniel felt like he was too cold, then he was probably right.  
He was always right.

And he was going to give him everything he wanted.  
Daniel was everything for him, and he wasn't going to let anything ruin their relationship. It was the best gift, the only gift life ever gave him - besides a few trophies, but he felt as if he had earned them more by himself.

Unlike his Grand Prix wins, Max wasn’t sure he deserved Daniel as much.

What could he have possibly done to be so blessed? Maybe he was just lucky? Maybe. 

He felt a burning tingle in his face, his lungs suddenly deprived of oxygen, and his chest painfully clench.

He turned around and hugged Daniel, who wasted no time in bringing him closer and tightening his grip around him, leaving a kiss on the top of his head.

Daniel quickly fell asleep, he could tell. He could tell by how he breathed, how quickly his chest moved, and how much his eyelids fluttered.

They knew each other from the inside out. In a way that was almost scary, in a way that frightened him whenever he realized how much he had put on the line.

He loved it and hated it at the same time.

His comment left him a bit astonished.  
Because if Daniel knew him so well, why couldn't he guess that Max was trying his best? That Max really loved him, and he just didn't know how to say it.

He inadvertently sighed, he had to figure it out. He needed to find a way to let Daniel know. 

Max never had to think about showing his affections to anyone. Frankly, he had never even had any love to show to anybody.

He didn't know how to explain something so new and painful. So unexpected and so unacceptable, especially at the start.  
It took a while for him to admit to himself what he was feeling for Daniel, the amount and the nature of the love he had for him.

And that same love, once he accepted it, became the strongest, most intense feeling he had ever felt.

And he was so grateful.

So he closed his eyes and recited, whispering, looking at Daniel in the darkness of the room.

" _So are you to my thoughts as food to life  
Or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground  
And for the peace of you I hold such strife  
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.  
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon  
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure  
Now counting best to be with you alone  
Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure  
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight  
And by and by clean starved for a look  
Possessing or pursuing no delight  
Save what is had, or must from you be took.  
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day  
Or gluttoning on all, or all away._"

He knew it by heart, and he didn't even know why. He had been so fascinated by the poem the first time he had read it. It reminded Max of the way his heart clenched the first time he realized Daniel's smile meant something more to him. Or when Daniel kissed him for the first time, and his chest exploded in euphoria.

Daniel deserved everything he could give him. Because he had gifted Max the key to unlocking emotions he had never experienced. Opening doors Max thought he could have never seen the other side of.

So he would find a way to tell Daniel just how much he loved him. Tell him other than show him, because whatever Daniel needed, he was going to get.

Max closed his eyes and buried his head ever further into his chest, drowning himself in his scent, intoxicating himself with his essence.

"Wow," Daniel mumbled, shifting slightly and pulling him closer.

Max quickly reacted smiling, leaving a small kiss on his lips, before going back to tightening his grip aroundDaniel.

Max sighed happily, maybe he just inadvertently found the way.  
Maybe.


	15. friends you find along the way - it just takes a lot of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @formula-meh who asked for some platonic sewis winter interaction!  
> (i may have added something for my own pleasure in there, but if you blink you'll miss it lmao)
> 
> hope you like it!
> 
> day fifteen: lewis hamilton & sebastian vettel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, know i am a few days late but i am postponing the end of the challenge to new years for the sake of my own sanity! hope you understand <3

Lewis rubs his hands together. The cold air reaches his bones, he can't wait to warm up.

It's a lot less humid than home.

Home. London? Monaco? He doesn't even know what place to call - to think as home.  
He used to think of Monaco as a symbol of his individuality and his independence. The place of his accomplishments. But it feels hollow now.

He knocks on the door, slightly nervous and awkward.

Hanna immediately greets Lewis with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug.

Sebastian hugs him, too and jokes about Lewis's frozen hands.  
He immediately feels welcomed and comfortable.

He's introduced to the rest of the family.  
Seb's kids are lovely, lively, and polite. They laugh and look at Lewis with big curious eyes. And, of course, he can't help smile back.

It's clear they were raised right, besides, Lewis expected nothing less from Sebastian.

Hanna is preparing dinner, and Lewis offers to help. She gladly accepts his enthusiasm.

They laugh together, and Lewis asks how she's doing.  
She's glowing, she's serene, and it's beautiful to see.

Now that the season ended - she says - she's happier.  
And it shows.

She admits that it's hard being without her husband, but she's used to it.  
They grew up together, after all. She always knew what she was getting herself into.

Lewis asks if she'd have preferred a different career. She replies he wouldn't be the same person if he had chosen a different path.

Lewis respects her so much, her courage, her strength. Lewis gets why they're so good together.  
They're perfect, made for each other.

He needs to look at them just for a few minutes, and he understands.  
They're on the same wavelength.  
They joke, they bant, they mess with each other. They are always playful in the small interactions they have. 

Lewis sees a whole other side of Sebastian.  
He sees another side of life.  
A life hemisses, a life he craves.

He looks at Sebastian, who joins them and embraces his wife, and his heart hurts.

His mind wanders back to Italy, thinking about someone he had just left.  
Will they ever be like this?  
Probably not. He can only dream.

Lewis almost lets out a sigh, but he stops himself before it's too late and coughs instead.  
Hanna immediately asks if Lewis needs something for his throat, and Lewis politely declines.

Sebastian immediately interrupts, joking that his wife had never shown such concern for anyone.

Lewis finds himself laughing at the addition and shaking his head.

On the inside, poison is clumping in his heart. Maybe not poison - but definitely a mixture of jealousy and happiness. 

Honest and innocent jealousy accompanied by genuine and steady happiness for his friend.  
Lewis stops his thoughts, could they call themselves friends?

They must be friends. He's on the Christmas card list, he thinks - but so is Mark, after all.

The two of them end up talking a lot. By the fireplace, with a glass of an expensive Italian red wine, Sebastian just opened. They chat about life and its meaning, about family, marriage, about love.

They laugh a lot, perhaps it's the alcohol, perhaps it's the chemistry they have after years of rivalry.

Eventually, they end up talking about racing, of course.

Sebastian says he can't decide when he's going to retire.  
He's not scared of the dreaded word. He even asks Lewis about it. It takes him by surprise.

Lewis is happy with his racing life. But he’s scared. He is scared he’s going to get burned out. He’s scared he’ll hate his career if he doesn’t end it at the right moment, at the right time.

But Sebastian is so casual, he laughs and jokes, and it makes him wonder if he’s for real or not.

If Sebastian really is so casual about it he wants to applaud and yell at him at the same time. Know his secret and then tell him he’s an idiot about being so indifferent about his wonderful career.

But deep down Lewis thinks he’s just faking it. Sebastian loves racing. It’s his life and everyone knows it. That’s why his wife accepts it. The risk, the pain, the distance, the responsibility, she accepts everything. Out of love, out of admiration.

Lewis wishes he had half of the serenity Sebastin showed. About love, about Formula One, about life.

He finds the courage to ask Sebastian what his secret is. He replies that he has none - maybe a lot of time to think - he adds.

Sebastian laughs immediately, and Lewis sighs in relief when the usual lecture about social media doesn't come.

Hanna leaves them alone to send the kids to bed, and Sebastian wastes no time asking what he's feeling, how he's doing.  
Lewis tells him about his situation, about how he misses someone, Sebastian shakes his head, telling him he's hopeless.  
He asks him why he's not there, why he left, why he's at Sebastian's instead of where he really wants to be.

Lewis bits his lip, he replies he needed some time, and he wanted to see a friend.

The expression makes Sebastian extremely happy, he smiles.

He's glad Lewis trusts him and considers him a friend - he says.

There goes his doubt. So, they are friends. Lewis is beaming.  
He replies he's glad he finally found a person he can be so confidencial with, among the chaos of their racing life.  
Sebastian has never had such problems, the German confirms it himself.

Mark, Jenson, Daniel, Lewis, Kimi, even Charles - he's gotten along with everyone, more or less.

Lewis envies the way Sebastian charms everyone, the way he was able to make so many friends even in a competitive environment.

He replies he failed to become friends with Fernando - Mark got to him first - he jokes.

Lewis can't help but admire him. Sebastian is the type of competitor he wishes he could be. The sentence escapes his thoughts and Sebastian shakes his head, looking down.

He jokes again that he has charmed many but only a few have charmed him, and Lewis is one of the few lucky ones.

Lewis laughs once again, Sebastian is truly something else.  
He gets serious for a moment, truly thanking the German for his friendship. But Sebastian glares at him, reprimanding him of his lack of self-confidence.

He tells Lewis that anyone should be honored to be his friend, teammate, partner, whatever he wishes, and Lewis can't help but blush.

As always with Seb, after a serious thought, comes the joke and the making fun.

"Out of curiosity, since we're friends now. Was there anything with Nico?" He smirks.

Lewis doesn't reply, he just glares and throws a pillow at him. 

Sebastian cackles loudly. "It was a genuine question!"

“Oh you know what, you’re right, maybe I should go back to Italy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess why i talked about italy... who knows


	16. i just got a pole - straight to your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day sixteen: nicholas latifi/lance stroll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i needed a bit of cheesiness to cheer myself up :,)

Lance was beaming, hopping from one place to the other. He flashed one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen on his face.  
His heart couldn't help but smile back.  
No matter how bad he felt, how beaten down he was, Nicky was going to let Lance celebrate all he wanted.

"Good job!"

Lance hugged him tightly, in a corner, hidden from every garage, away from indiscreet eyes. Almost as if sharing basic affection was prohibited - well, it kinda was.

"Thank you, Nicky!"

"You're welcome!"  
He let him go and sighed, a bit bummed out Lance said nothing about his crash.  
He shook his head, he couldn't be mad at his friend. He couldn't ruin his day, his maiden pole. He deserved every bit of congratulations and celebrations he was going to get.

Nicholas made his way to his room, desperately needing a distraction from the terrible day he was having.  
He grabbed his phone and started scrolling through social media, looking at funny videos, trying to avoid any comment or criticism by burying himself between dog and cat videos.   
He even ended up looking for ebook recommendations. Anything was acceptable to turn off his brain.

Not like his heart was cooperating either.  
He breathed in painfully when he felt the familiar tight chest feeling that constantly burdened him.

He opened their chat conversations and was suddenly brought back to being a teenager. He felt stupid, staring at the _"Good luck!"_ he had sent earlier that morning, and which found no reply.

It had worked, though, in bringing Lance luck.  
A bit less for himself, but so be it.

He glanced back at his phone just in time to notice that Lance was typing something.  
His distracted eyes suddenly widened as he swiped to get off of the chat, trying not to out the fact that he had been staring at the screen like a hopeless love-sick teenager for a full couple of minutes.

_I am so sorry, I forgot to ask you about the crash!_

Nicholas smiled at his phone, gripping it between his hands and sighing like he used to do, looking at the moon, and thinking about his first love from years before.

_Don't worry about it! Nothing bad happened anyway._

Lance replied instantly, making Nicholas jump slightly and feel less like a loser at the same time.

_Are you free right now?"_

Nicholas batted his eyelashes a few times, trying to absorb the information.  
He was indeed free - well from a physical, time-related side - a bit less on the emotional, figurative one.

He replied immediately, hands a bit shaking - slightly overreacting, but could you blame him?

He asked why he was asking, and Lance replied he wanted to see him, leaving him breathless and anxious.

_Are we allowed to?_

_I don't really care._

Nicholas's heart jumped right out of his chest and stuck in the middle of his throat, tearing his esophagus from the inside out.

_Fine. Tell me where and when._

The ten minutes that separated them felt like hours and days and months.  
He rushed to get changed, ending up sitting still, anxious before another text came to inform him Lance was outside of the hotel, waiting for him.

He rushed down the stairs, forgetting the existence of the elevator, not like his nerves would have let him standstill for more than a second.

He looked at Lance and immediately relaxed. He didn't even know why he was so scared of his friend.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Wherever you want, Istanbul seems really big."

They ended up walking around with no direction or purpose.

"I am so sorry I forgot about your crash."

"It's okay. You were excited about your pole. I understand."

They sat on a bench in an isolated park a bit higher up. There was a wonderful view of the sea and of the sun setting in front of them as they chatted.

"I am so proud of your pole. If there's someone who deserves it, that's you. For sure."

"Stop."

"Never." Nicholas laughed. "I mean it."

"Thank you. I am sure you'll time will come as well."

"You know, Lance, you can accept people's compliments without saying anything back that underestimates yourself. I am not saying it to have a compliment bounce back at me."

Lance looked at him for a few seconds, saying nothing.  
"Thank you, then."

"You're very welcome."

They sat together for a while, in a comfortable mood, casually chatting, not feeling the pressure of small talk, not needing to say anything too smart, too impressive.

"I think there's more to life than pole positions."

"I am sure." Nicholas would have liked adding that sitting, looking at the sun with Lance was one of the things he'd have classified in that list, instead, he asked, "For example?"

"I don't know." Lance looked at the groud, fiddling with his thumbs.

"Do you need to tell me anything? It seems like you do."

"It's just that, I spoke to George-"

"George?"

"Yeah, he came to me and asked me if I knew anything about you."

"About me?"

"He said he sees you sighing, moping and he got worried, but then he also said he has caught you casually smiling to yourself and he came to me to ask if I thought you-" Lance sighed. "If I knew you were perhaps in love."

"Oh."

"Are you? I mean- I don't want to intrude, but-"

Nicholas smiled. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? Me? Of course not." He immediately replied. "Maybe a bit curious, and preoccupied."

Nicholas glared at him, eyebrow raised and smile plastered on his face.

"Okay, okay! A bit. But not in that way! I mean-" he groaned, "I give up."

"No, you're right. You're not jealous. You can't be."

"Huh?"

"You'd have to be jealous of yourself, and I don't think it works that way."

Lance's eyes widened, and his face flushed bright pink right as he understood what Nicholas was implying.  
"I- I don't know what to say," he stammered a reply.

"You don't have to say anything."

"Well, I'd kiss you, but I think we've already breached enough social distancing rules."

"Oh, great excuse, yes."

Lance slapped his arm slightly. "Don't say that."

"I am joking. I can see your blushed cheeks through the mask."

"I am not talking to you."

Nicholas laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as they left the bench, feeling like he was walking on air.  
"What was it again about things better than pole positions?"


	17. when i stopped needing a confirmation - that's when i got it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @becauseiamanengineer a sewis soulmate au!  
> hope you like it! :)  
> inspired by mandzilkos's _I love you, ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?_ and all of the phan soulmate aus i read as a 15 year old.
> 
> in a world where when you fall in love you get a tattoo, sebastian, tattoo-less, meets a beautiful stranger who's covered in them
> 
> day seventeen: lewis hamilton/sebastian vettel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of my favorites for sure!

Sebastian met Lewis in a bar one summer night, one night the moon was so bright and big he still carried it in his heart.

Lewis was walking the dog by the sea, casually stopping to glance at the stars. 

Sebastian stopped in his tracks, secretly staring at the stranger, captured by the way his dark skin captured the light of the night. He had so many tattoos. It made his bones shiver, his knees weak. It exceedingly intimidated him.  
Sebastian had none. 

And he would have never spoken to him if Bruno hadn't tugged at his leash, obviously interested in the dog the stranger was walking, forcing him to overcome his fears.

So he introduced himself to him as Bruno and Roscoe - the newfound stranger's dog - played together by the shore, tiptoeing in the water, barking happily under the moonlight.

And the same moonlight shined over the two strangers, that fascinated each other so much they ended up spending most of the evening together. Sharing stories, compliments, commenting, and exchanging facts about stars, about one constellation that was particularly bright that night.

And because his dog had found the courage he usually lacked, the fairytale began. 

Lewis was beautiful, funny, sweet. He was what everyone desired, what everyone needed. 

But he was full of tattoos, and that still intimated him.  
His dark skin was full of ink, full of love.  
Sebastian craved to have it under his touch, under his lips. But he also craved to be in it. To be him.  
The line between having and being was so fine and so intersected. 

And Sebastian's skin was white and blank, candid as the early morning snow.  
He had no tattoos, none.  
Apparently, Sebastian didn't know how to love. 

He had asked himself, cried so many times, seen so many doctors, but no one had an answer, no one had a solution.

Either Sebastian was sick, or he was heartless.  
But the way he felt whenever he saw, spoke to, kissed Lewis denied the second possibility.

He had love in his heart. He knew it, he felt it, he was sure of it.

But his skin remained blank.  
Even when they held hands for the first time, kissed for the first time, made love for the first time.  
Sebastian's skin didn't care about his skipped heartbeats, about his sleepless nights, his passionate sighs. About his soul, that was devoted so much to Lewis, about the pain his love for him caused in his chest whenever he looked at him.

Lewis had a new tattoo. Lewis was beaming, screaming proud of his skin proud of the newfound sigil of love. And it was big, enormous, across his back, adding to his already existing cross, framing it wonderfully.  
A pair of wings.

Lewis joked that Sebastian was his angel. He always kept him on a pedestal, above everyone and everything.  
Sebastian felt like the luckiest man alive. Lewis was quick to care, quick to love, quick to give his heart, life, and soul.  
And he was one of the lucky ones.

Sebastian teared up when he first saw it when Lewis came back from the bathroom shirtless, beaming with pride and happiness. He couldn't resist throwing his arms around him, and Lewis picked him up, equally as emotional.

And Sebastian was the happiest in the world.  
Lewis loved him! He really loved him! And there was physical proof of it!

He had always known. He had always been sure of his feelings, but he had added evidence that definitely helped.  
He felt a sense of security that he craved to gift Lewis. 

He wanted to gift him the same tranquility, the same certainty.

Lewis always said he trusted him, he swore that he knew Sebastian loved him.  
But how could he believe him, when Lewis didn't know the exhilarating feeling of being a hundred percent sure of one's feelings. 

And Sebastian felt guilty because he could have never granted it to him.

He had lost hope. After weeks, months, he had lost all the hope he ever had about seeing ink on his skin.

"You're an angel. You're candid and pure. You can't be stained."

Lewis tried to convince him it was okay, that he was special, but Sebastian still couldn't help but feel broken, out of place, a stranger of the world.

Everyone knew, everyone noticed, everyone secretly side-eyed him.  
They thought of him as heartless.  
Incapable of loving.  
If only they knew how much he loved Lewis. What he'd do for him. They'd change their mind. But maybe it was better to see him as a bad, cold, heartless monster instead of a poor broken soul.

Who cared about what others said? Lewis knew, and nothing else mattered.  
No one else mattered.

He had lost hope.  
But he had started to lose care and shame.  
Lewis helped with his reassurances, with his kind, sweet words.

He had lost hope.  
Hope.  
He had gained trust instead.  
Trust in himself. In his love for him, in the newfound love for himself. In Lewis, in his reassurance, in his own trust of him, in his vulnerability and strength.

He had also gained a tattoo- A tattoo!  
The tattoo!

"Lewis!" He called out, half screaming, half crying. Breathless but also powerful.

On his right wrist, a few dots had just appeared. A few dots that represented a certain constellation, one they had talked about, loved, stared at together from day one, since the beginning.

And on the right one, a small crescent moon, filled in and slightly tilted.

Not one tattoo. Two. He had two!

Sebastian looked up from his wrists into Lewis's eyes and couldn't hold the biggest smile forming on his lips. Lewis wasted no time embracing him and kissing his smile. He was happier for Sebastian than for himself. It had been a confirmation Sebastian had needed more for himself than for Lewis.

"One for us," Lewis said, stroking the new tattoo on his left wrist, tracing the lines and dots of the constellation.

"One for yourself," He added, kissing his right wrist, right where the inked moon stayed, in all of its glory.

With just a few words, Sebastian understood.

He hadn't been broken. He had been wounded. Injured by the side-eyes in the streets, by his loneliness, by himself and his own self-sabotage, self-hatred.

And Lewis had helped him heal. His words had helped Sebastian recover, rebuild himself, his heart.

Now, he was ready to show his love to the world. A love he had always had, but he had needed help to accept.

He was ready to scream it in an abyss from the highest cliff in the world.  
And the two tattoos, the ink, were exactly what he needed to do it.

A silent scream of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this challenge was supposed to end today but depression hit harder when the season ended, so i didn't finish all of them.  
> But because i am a woman of a certain integrity (/s) i am keeping my word in finishing all of the prompts so this challenge will end on the 31st! :)


	18. every nightmare has a happy ending - even brad's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @wancestroll, babbub, my friend, this has to be the weirdest, most unconventional request i ever got, and i applaud you for it (even tho i've been dreading this one since day one)
> 
> hope you like it ;)
> 
> day eighteen: the wonderful adventures of brad and lance lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an entire sarcastic chapter don't take me or this seriously!
> 
> just enjoy the madness

"Brad, it would be nice to have an ice cream in here."

That had been the last straw - or better, cone - to his limit of tolerance.  
He wouldn't, he couldn't endure more of the happy-go-lucky racing driver who never shut up, no matter the place or time.

He had even learned he was like that with a few people only. Talkative with a few and shy with everyone else. Timid and quiet. But unlucky for him, Lance had decided Brad was going to be one of his victims.

Brad was a victim of his bright and slightly nasal voice, his never stopping grin, and his persistent giddiness.

He had thought no one was going to be worse to work with than Esteban, but there he was, Lance Stroll, a walking marshmallow.

His bright pink racing suit and livery of his car definitely didn't help with the reputation his driver already had in the team.

He was so irritated he almost mourned his long lost driver Hulkenberg with his annoying smile.

"Brad, hello!"

When you speak of the devil. 

"Brad, have you been having a nice day today?"

Wonderful. Just right up till the moment you arrived.

"Brad, are you excited about tomorrow's practice session?"

Thrilled. Definitely couldn't wait.

"Brad, do you think it's going to rain on Sunday?"

I sure hope not. I really wouldn't want to hear you complain about your tyres for two hours straight.

Brad was at the limits of his bearing. His patience tested to its most extreme boundaries.  
He had to keep a straight face if he really couldn't force a smile.  
Because he couldn't really have said what he had in mind, he had to nod his way out of the conversation.

He sighed to himself because of the so many witty remarks gone to waste, only to keep his job.  
Just to avoid getting fired from a job he actually really liked - loved even - but a job that was constantly ruined by the annoying young drivers he was forced to work with.

Couldn't he have worked with a silent, expert, good driver that didn't complain about anything ever? One who took matters into his own hands when things went wrong, without having to constantly be baby-sat?

Oh, how he longed to be Kimi Raikkonen's engineer. A dream come true. Not that he particularly cared about the driver as a person, because he really couldn't care less. But Brad would have taken icy-cold silence and a few frustrated yells over constant giddiness and insisting elementary questions over the radio every day of the year.

It was a Sunday night. They were out for dinner to celebrate the last race of the year. Brad had been dragged out with everyone, merely finding strength in the food in front of him to help zone out everyone talking. Okay, not everyone - that was mean - just one particular person who for some reason really liked yelling his name, making it a shriek in the background buzz of everyone's chatting.

And of course, that person just had to be sitting next to him, in the seat to his right.  
He just had to be there, to ruin his evening with casual chit-chat. Brad already hated small talk without it needing to be from Lance.

"Hey, Brad, do you like your food?"

Just as he was about to try and reply as politely as his tolerance would have allowed he looked down to his place, almost as if trying to look for confirmation in his plate. His eyes widened immediately, his stomach turned upside down.  
Floating in his plate was a single strand of hair.   
Black luscious hair of medium length.

Oh, hell no.

He shot a glare at Lance, who looked back confused, still waiting for an answer, wondering what it was that he had said wrong.

Ruin my day, ruin my job, ruin my evening.  
But ruining my food?

Brad stood up from the table with a look that could have killed.

"Brad?"

He decided that was going to be the last time he ever was going to hear his name pronounced by the racing driver he had been forced to stand for so many years, too many years.  
The name he had used and reused to the point he had even thought about changing it.

Brad was officially done. 

"I quit."


	19. i feel like i should trust you - i hope i am right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for my baby, my love, my wife, light of my life sera @blesshimnorris  
> i wish i could give you the moon, but i present humbly the prompt you requested.  
> lando and daniel becoming friends and sharing christmas presents
> 
> hope you like it!
> 
> day nineteen: daniel ricciardo & lando norris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it an esme fic if it doesn't have at least 500 words of self-introspection and petty angst? nah :)

Daniel is not that thrilled about the new racing year. Or at least not as much as one expects him to be. 

They all expect them - him and Lando - to be best friends, to get along instantly, to be the new power duo in the paddock, to be the funniest, most dynamic duo that ever graced Formula one.  
But Daniel is not sure that's going to happen - or at least not going to happen instantly.

Lando is friends with Max, really good friends, hanging-out-on-Saturday-night-and-Sunday-morning-too friends. Friends who send each other pics of their crushes, not only memes. That's a thing more than Daniel.

And maybe that's why they can't be friends. It's him or me. You can't have both. 

Maybe Daniel is just jealous that Lando got to understand a part of him he never could. 

_"I'll never understand you."_

_"How can you said that when you never even tried to?"_

Maybe Daniel is just jealous Lando got to be something he never could to him.

_"If we can't even be fucking friends, how do you expect us to be something more?"_

Maybe.

He still can't be friends with Max, he never did, and he never probably will. 

And they can't even be anything more, also because he has found himself a new girl. Everyone has been talking about it, and he's never been more glad that he isn't involved. As much as he usually loves and craves attention, he doesn't want people to know who he's fucking. But if Max is fine with it, who's he to judge, if not a sad and still slightly sore ex?

They're acquaintances, ex-teammates, colleagues who know how to behave at work.  
Actors on a stage.

Lando is the only one who asks him about it, and maybe that's why Daniel feels like they've already started on bad terms.

Everyone expects them to get along, but he can't help but feel that he's just there to remind him of him.

Whenever they talk, Daniel feels as if Lando speaks only to defend Max's opinion.

And Daniel really has no time for Max part _dos_.

But Daniel also has to try. He has to try for the team. He's not going to be the one who ruins his chances with the people that are giving him a new opportunity. 

And he thinks getting along with Lando is going to be a challenge, but Daniel has always been up for a challenge. And he has never turned down one.

So when Andreas proposes a sort of late-Christmas party slash welcoming party before testing began to build some - as he calls it - team spirit - Daniel sighs to himself and accepts.  
If all he has to do is buy Lando a Christmas present and thank him for his hopefully decent one, then he'd survive. And if cake is involved, he is sure it'd be fine.

The party is one evening after a brief meeting. After just a few introductions and a bit of a pep-talk to hopefully start the new year right.  
He shows up with his tan hoodie and a pair of white jeans, hoping he is properly dressed. Was he supposed to wear team wear? He hopes not, even though he can use the excuse of the things they sent being way too large on him.

He lets out a sigh in relief when he sees everyone is more or less casual, and Lando is even sporting a simple white t-shirt.

The meeting is alright. Daniel manages to feel comfortable, and the team sets a nice, laid-back atmosphere where he can easily crack a joke or two, and the best thing is that everyone laughs. Even Lando. Actually, he laughs the most.

Daniel already feels less awkward about it all. 

He remembers he has to give his gift to Lando, and the nervousness he feels makes him think he has suddenly started to care. He suddenly cares about his reputation as a teammate, even before officially becoming one.

"Merry Christmas, almost a month late, but hey, time is relative or something like that."

"Oh, you shouldn't have," the automatic response immediately comes.

And Daniel has to bite his tongue not to immediately reply that he actually _had to_ , he's not sure Lando would get his sarcasm right away. He doesn't want to risk it.

"Wow, thanks. I love it!" Lando brightly exclaims, with a huge smile.

"I am glad. I didn't know what to get you, then I saw your Insta stories."

"Wow, I really appreciate it! Thank you," Lando reiterates, genuine surprised. "Who knows, maybe I'll make you a pair." 

Daniel laughs and shakes his head, he's actually really glad Lando likes the fabric paint and the brushes he got him. He was actually quite impressed with his creations.

"Merry late Christmas. Hope it's as good as yours."

Daniel curiously opens his present, and his eyebrows raise in surprise when he sees a pair of leopard-print yellow Bluetooth earphones. 

He has to admit he's impressed.

"Max told me you would love them but-"

He's less impressed.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have."

Daniel sighs. Everything was going fine, and he's going to be the bigger person - well, technically he is an actual decade older - and forget Lando even mentioned it.

_"Morto un papa se ne fa un altro."_

Lando bats his eyelashes a few times in confusion before asking what that meant.

"You'll find out when you grow up," Daniel laughs, and Lando follows, still confused but a bit scared of asking more.

"Was that Italian?"

"Yeah."

"I'll have to ask Charles to translate it. How was it again?" 

"Oh, no. I said it once already. I am not going to repeat myself." 

And just like that, they start banting.  
They end up alone together, sitting by themselves in a corner of the room.

Daniel finds out he still likes meeting and getting to know new people, he really didn't think he still did.  
Technically he knew Lando, but he knew nothing of him at all at the same time.

He thought he'd feel as if he was babysitting someone. He thought he'd end up thinking of Lando as nothing but a kid he has to help grow - racing-wise, of course, because frankly, he isn't delusional enough to think he can give life lessons to anyone.

And in his mind, he has thought of McLaren's offer being a trap.  
He has thought of the possibility of them wanting him as a sort of tutor, a coach to their young promise.  
Been there, done that. He's traumatized by the words _golden boy_.

But at the right questions, Lando's eyes glisten with maturity and interest, and Daniel recognizes in them the twenty-one-year-old that grew too fast that he himself once was.

He is probably being paranoid. Everyone has seen Lando and Carlos's teamwork, the flourishing of McLaren, the amazing partnership of the two, and the environment that allowed them both space to grow.

That's why he accepted their offer, after all.

And he's quickly realizing he's been too extra, too melodramatic about it all.

Because the moment Lando mentions something they have in common they start talking and laughing, and they don't seem to be able to shut up.

Daniel knew he was going to make Lando laugh, but he never expected his new teammate to be just as funny, and have a sense of humor naturally analogous to his.

And when Lando mentions hot chocolate, they share a complicit look and immediately jump up to get the desired beverage, glad neither of their trainers is that strict about it.

And when he stands, Daniel notices everyone has been watching them. Watching from afar, leaving them enough room for the bubble they have created, but still vigilantly controlling if the master plan is working.

Daniel feels a bit of that paranoid wave hit him again, but he washes it away just after a brief moment.  
They just want them to get along. He sees it in the smiles the big guys share. There's no ulterior motive. There's no second-driver agenda.

And he's not completely sure, but he's already changed his mind about Lando, so he really can't wait to be a hundred percent convinced.

"So, are we friends now?" Lando asks, and Daniel in his big eyes finds the bit of innocence and hopefulness he needs to help his percentual rise.

Daniel smirks slyly, amused. He's already savoring messing with Lando. "We'll see."


	20. i'll distract you from everything bad - even if it means letting you make fun of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @mclarentreats who asked for alex/george christmas shopping date
> 
> hope you like it! :)
> 
> day twenty: alexander albon/george russell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am aware it's 3am shut up

George sighs when he sees the frown plastered on his face.  
If there's something he absolutely hates, that pains him entirely, it is watching Alex be sad, or worried, or worse - both.

He needs to see him smile, it gives him life.  
He's his life.

He wishes he could take out all his life's burdens, all his anxieties.

But, unfortunately, he can't, even if it's the biggest desire he has.  
He really wants to believe in Santa again, to write him a letter, to wait for things to get better magically.

But it's almost Christmas already, and the deadline for Santa's wishlists expired a decade and a half ago.

So George has to do something all by himself to cheer Alex up. He has to focus and try his best. 

And like he did after discovering Santa wasn't real years and years before, he tries resolving the issue in the same way, by catapulting himself into the terribly irresistible trap of consumerism.  
He'll be his own overgrown Santa. An expiring Santa.

It takes a "Let's go to the mall," half-a-dozen "Come on, please?" and a single "Alexander Albon, move your ass and let's go" to convince Alex to actually move his ass and go. 

George drags him out, and it's snowing. It's light, and it won't stick, it'll probably disappear in an hour, but it doesn't fail to bring a smile to Alex's face, and that's all that George needs.  
He's glad he succeeded in dragging him out.  
For both of them.

"I'll buy you whatever you want."

"Can you buy me an extra life for my cat?"

George sighs when he feels Alex's glare on him. "Like I thought. You can't, and I don't want anything else."

"Alex, Horsey's going to be fine," he's trying to cheer him up, to reassure him.

"Do you really think so?" Alex feels like a child.

"Yes, of course. Did you actually hear what the vet said?" He's trying to joke, to take it to the lighter side.

"Yes, but-"

George shakes his finger before tapping the tip of Alex's nose.  
"No buts. Now, is there something you want and never got? Something you can actually buy, perhaps?"

"A Formula One seat," Alex replied, with a self-aware grin on his face, biting the inside of his mouth, trying not to laugh at the expectation of his reaction to his joke.

At that, George almost choked on his own saliva.

"No, George. Buying stuff won't solve my issues. Or anyone's issues, for all that matters."

"Oh, come on! Sometimes it's fine being materialistic."

"Your parents are lovely, and I am sure they never bought your love with presents, so I am trying to figure out where all of this is coming from."

"I am not trying to buy your love with presents. I know I don't need to and that I already have it."

"Mh, do you?" Alex grabs his hand and brings George closer.

"I do." George lives a quick kiss on his lips, savoring the sweetness, enjoying the little things.

Alex quickly nods, when he pulls away, smiling brightly.

"I am just trying to make you feel better, distract you."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm just messing with you."

George laughs as he shooks his head. Alex is impossible - in the best way possible. In a way that drives him mad.

"It's working, you know?"

"I'm glad." He smirks again. "Now, what the hell do you want for Christmas?"

"A pair of pajamas."

"A pair of pajamas?"

"Yes, you made fun of mine."

George gasped, "I didn't! You're lying! I would never."

Alex shakes his head again, as they head into the night clothing aisle.

"George, these ones have dogs and cats on them!"

"We can get them."

"Can we get matching ones?" Alex flashes his biggest puppy eyes.  
How can George resist?  
Why would he even want to resist?

"Fine," George laughed, "we can get matching ones."  
If it makes you happy, this and everything you want.

They walk through the aisles of each shop, hand in hand, casually letting go just to hold something to show the other after having pointed at it with a huge smile and at times even a gasp.

Alex, look at this! George, look at that!

Alex smiles a lot, sincerely, and George can't be happier.  
He deserves a break, after the racing year, after his cat was sick after everything and everyone underestimated him.  
He can't wait for him to show everyone in 2022. As Gasly, he'll rise from the ashes of burned confidence. Another phoenix after the devil's blow. Killed by its own peers. Red Bull's victim.

"Do you want to get a new bed for Horsey when he gets back from the vet?"  
Oh. George can't keep his mouth shut. Well, it's out now.

"I- Yes, okay, I want to be positive about it."

"That's the right spirit, love."   
Just as George is about to finish his sentence Alex's phone rings.  
A text.  
His eyes light up.

"Horsey's surgery went well!"

"That's amazing!"  
George hugs him tightly and slightly picks him up, getting giggles out of him.  
Music to his ears.

"You manifested it."

"I told you it was going to be alright."

"That's the best Christmas present I could have asked for."

"The bestest?" George playfully wiggles his eyebrows.

"Yes," Alex plays along, "You know what else I want for Christmas?"

"What else?" George hopes Alex is going where he thinks he's going.

But his smile drops, and a   
glare appears when Alex speaks.

"For you to admit you're wrong."

The smirks make its way back on George's lips.  
"Oh, baby, you know that's never going to happen."


	21. the sun on my skin, the sun on my lips - trying to get used to it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for my friend @strawberryandsunshine, i know you asked for a snowy scenario, but i already did that for day two so i am giving you a sequel, hope it's good enough!
> 
> day twenty-one: max verstappen/daniel ricciardo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sequel to day two, it's the following year, and as promised, daniel takes max to australia

The sun is shining brightly, in a way that will leave redness on his skin, in a way that will cause it to peel off, in a way he's going to have to lay on his stomach when he goes to sleep - if he goes to sleep.

The light is so intense he can't open his eyes properly even when he's looking straight forward and the sun his behind his head, slowly cooking the back of his neck.  
Daniel says it's normal, that it's because the ground reflects it.  
Max accepts it as true, not like he really cares if it is. At that moment, he cares about nothing else other than his need for a pair of sunglasses and a cold shower, as soon as possible.

"I told you you needed sunglasses."

Of course. When is Daniel not right about something? And when is he not bragging about being right and rubbing it in?

It takes a small thing to send him into an endless cycle of thoughts. A train he really doesn't want to be on, especially after twenty hours of flight.

He's not used to sunglasses. Why? Because he's never felt the need to wear them. He's grown up without them.

In Belgium, when it's cold, it's freezing, and when it's hot, it's barely warm.  
But Belgium is not Australia, and Max is not Daniel.  
And sometimes Max forgets. He forgets Daniel is different than him and forgets that there are places where the sun warms people’s skins and even burns them.

Is he still thinking about sunglasses? Or maybe something else?

He has never needed sunglasses. Or maybe he has, but he has never realized. Like he has never realized he has been craving love for all these years.

Is it too deep of a connection?

Perhaps, but Max is walking, jet-lagged, in the middle of a semi-deserted environment, and the sun is hitting on the back of his neck, and he's squinting his eyes so hard. He feels drunk.

And his lack of sunglasses-love creeps in his mind and never lets him go. It'll never let him go.  
Because the lack of sunglasses-love is the lack of many things in his life. It's one of the many differences between Daniel and him, the main difference perhaps.

Daniel grew up with sun and love, so he can deal with them both. He's familiar, so he knows how to handle them. He's used to them.

Max envies him, sometimes, but he doesn't like to admit it to himself. Daniel deserves every inch of love, every ray of the sun his skin has been touched by. He isn't envious in the way he wishes something to be taken away from Daniel, he's envious in the way he wishes he could have had the same.

He doesn't want to take anything from him. On the contrary, he craves to have something to give him. But he feels as if he has nothing to gift.

Maybe together, maybe they could create something new, maybe they could share.

Can one double someone's happiness and ask for them to share it?  
Isn't that what lovers do? Don't they share the happiness that they created and grew together?

Can Max do that? Can he help himself by just loving Daniel? Or does he need to accept himself first?

Max feels slightly dizzy.  
Suddenly the world spins, and he has to grab Daniel's forearm not to fall. Did he close his eyes by accident? 

"Max! Sit down. Michael, can you give me some water?"

His voice is muffled in his ears, but Max feels ground under his ass, then he feels a hand under his head. Suddenly his legs are in the air, and the world starts spinning again.

"Max? Can you hear me?"

He nods his head, the world spins faster. Bad idea.

"Yeah."

"Let's take you home."

* * *

Max finds himself somewhere cool. Heaven?  
Daniel's room.  
Close enough.

"I thought I was bad with the cold, but love, you surpassed my wildest imagination."

Max can't help but laugh. Even with a sunstroke, Daniel finds a way to make him lighter, to make him happy.

The situation is so ironic. Life is messing with him as per usual.  
You wanted the sun? Here, get this sunstroke then! 

In the grand scheme of things, Max sees a deeper meaning to that too. You are not used to the sun, so you got burnt - literally.  
You will never get used to the sun.  
You will never be good enough for the sun. Your sun. Daniel-sun.

But Daniel knows him so well. He needs to look at his pensive eyes for a second, and he understands. He climbs to bed next to him, raises the cloth they put to help him cool down, and leaves a kiss on his forehead.

"What are you thinking?"

"Just exhausted."

Daniel gives him a look. Max can't fool him.

"I was just thinking about how different we are."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"You don't think?"

"No. Do you?"

Max raised his shoulders and looked away.

"Today, for example."

"Mh?"

"You fainted, 'cause you're not really accustomed to high temperatures, right?"

"Right."

"Remind me again why we're here this year?"

"'Cause last year you absolutely hated the cold?"

"Exactly."

"I don't get your point."

"Last year we spent Christmas in the cold, and I hated it-"

"I don't hate being here!"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Okay, sorry, go on."

"Remember when my hands got so dry and flakey they started bleeding?"

"Yes," Max laughed, "You picked up snow all night with no gloves, ha idiot!"

"Very funny, yes. But my point is, guess who helped my hands recover after I - like an idiot - almost peeled off all of my skin?"

"Me?"

"You. If you weren't used to the cold, you wouldn't have known which cream to use, like today, if I wasn't used to the sun so much, I wouldn't have known what to do."

"It's not about the sun, is it? You're not really talking about the weather, are you?"

"Smart boy." Daniel kisses his lips and sets them on fire, as only he can do.  
The sun on his lips, Max's sun.

Maybe he'll get used to Christmas in Australia. He has time. And he has the best person by his side to teach him. He'll be fine, he just needs a pair of sunglasses.


	22. you tried to cheer me up - but you ended up creating trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @obhazvious who asked for alex/dan talking shit about rbr   
> hope you like it!
> 
> day twenty-two: alexander albon/daniel ricciardo

There's a hole in his stomach. It starts from under his sternum and goes down to his bellybutton. A metaphorical void.  
The hole also stings, in a way it must be filled with fire. But it also feels like nothing. As if the fire has just been extinguished, and there are just third-degree burns left to remind him of its previous existence.

Alex is destroyed. He is beaten and into pieces and numb at the same time. He feels as if he has no hope, no real prospect for the year. And 2022 feels so far away.

_Do you want to talk about it?_

A number he has never received a text from. Curious, scary, he's intrigued.

It takes him a few moments to understand who it is and what they're referencing.

Daniel Ricciardo.

Oh.

_About?_ He texts. He doesn't want to assume, but he does have half of an idea.

_Oh, you know what. Can I call you?_

Okay, then. He has a full idea.

Alex didn't think Daniel meant immediately, nor that he was going to video call him. So he jumps when a Facetime notification suddenly lights his phone up, quickly checking himself on the mirror before answering.

He doesn't know why, but Daniel feels like one he wants to try to impress. One he somehow still looks up to, even after beating him on track.  
And maybe it's the shared Red Bull trauma, maybe it's the way Daniel came out almost unscathed from it. Maybe it's the tinge of pride in his eye he still carries around.  
The tinge that allowed Alex to shoot his shot with the big team, with the big guys.

Does he forgive Daniel for it? Does he forgive Pierre? Does he forgive them for making Christian promote him?

He regrets ever accepting the promotion. He realized it in between Monza and Mugello, between Pierre's first win and his first podium.  
And it's not about the different results, it's about the different celebrations.

Alex never expected a huge party. After all, Max was on the podium every other time, and no one was throwing him any parties. But he hoped for a pat on the back that never came, maybe just a few kind words, but all he could hear - perhaps misinterpreting, perhaps not - was _fucking finally_.

He picks up the phone, and Daniel doesn't notice. He's too distracted. Alex catches him fixing his curls, slightly humming whatever song.   
He then realizes. His eyes widen a bit, but he tries his best not to let it show.  
Alex really has to fight back an amused smile. It's cute, and Alex has to admit he is very, very embarrassed.

"Might sound like a dumb question, but how are you?"

Not many have asked him that. George and Lando did, both called the same day, George's call was longer.  
He misses him. He wishes he could go back in time and fix things, but he can't. He's just glad he can still call him a friend.  
He was the right person at the wrong time. his right person.

Charles called him, too. But he didn't ask how he was. Perhaps he felt as if it was redundant. He tried everything he could to make him laugh and smile. He appreciated it nonetheless.

Pierre had not called, but he had sent a long and very thoughtful text about it. Alex was so glad he had not called, he wouldn't have been able to deal with it properly. His words had touched his soul, there was no one that could understand him better.

Not even Daniel.

"I've been better."

"I am sure you have."

"Did you call for something?"

"To offer my Reb Bull-fucked-us-over solidarity."

"Haha," Alex tries to laugh but fails miserably.

"I am serious though. I believe Pierre already called you?"

"No, he- Yes, yes, he reached out."

"Mh. I called him last year, too, you know? I wish I didn't have to do it every year, but they never learn."

Alex almost feels a tinge of unprompted jealousy at that. Almost. He's glad he called Pierre last year, even if it means he's not special. In a way, he's glad he's not special. He's glad it's not about him, but about anyone else except Max.

They end up talking for a while. Daniel even changes the conversation a few times. Perhaps he gets sidetracked, or perhaps he wants to cheer Alex up.

Alex laughs, a lot, to the point he almost feels embarrassed at the amount of giggling Daniel can get out of him. To the point he feels pain in his stomach, along with an eerie feeling he can't quite place.

Daniel cheers him up. He never wants to stop laughing with him, at him - because Daniel also lets Alex make fun of him - lightly, of course.

The weight in his chest is lifted, he feels lighter, serene, and yet slightly on edge at the same time.

He knows something is wrong with the way he's enjoying looking at Daniel. He's fixated on the shadow of his nose he sees on the white wall behind him, on the highlights caused by soft light cast on his tanned skin.

He knows he's loving this conversation way too much. That he shouldn't be. That it would break George's heart.

And yet, he can't find the courage or the want to close the call, to - pun not intended - call it off.

It has to be Daniel who closes it, the same way it was Daniel that picked up his phone to call him in the first place.

And it has to be Daniel that asks what he is doing for the holidays.

"I am staying home, enjoying my family, mostly my pets."

"I saw you have a whole zoo."

"Yeah, I love them all."

"I will have to come by one day to pet them all."

Alex feels sweat drop behind his back.

"Or not, sorry-"

"No, no! You're welcome any time." Nice one, Alex. He thinks to himself.

"Thanks."

"Sorry, what are you doing then?"

"Flying to LA. I need some fresh air and sun."

"Didn't like Monaco that much this year?"

"I don't like it any year, to be honest."

"Is he there?"

"No, he's not. I don't like it in the winter, he has nothing to do with it."

"Sorry, I asked."

"Don't apologize, please. You're helping me."

"With?"

"Just brightening my mood, that's it."

"Me? Brightening your mood?"

"Yeah," Daniel laughs, "What's so weird about it?"

"You're doing the same, but I think you already knew that."

"Caught me. Guess we'll have to do this more often, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Alex breathes out, feeling almost drunk on happiness, "We definitey have to do this again."

Alex laughs but on the inside he thinks, he’s in big big trouble.


	23. a secret i really want to share - maybe, we'll see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @the-toaseted-teacake that asked for carlando and the theme of revelation!
> 
> hope you like it!
> 
> day twenty-three: carlos sainz jr/lando norris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am aware i am super late, i know, i know

Last year he was standing next to Carlos, with Carlos.  
And he was so excited, so happy, so lighthearted. He was serene and tense at the same time but in the best way possible. Pure adrenaline. He was so hyped, so sure everything was going to be fine.

He really had no clue how the year would go, how the year would end, but who could have guessed? Who would have thought?

He never thought he'd spend enough time at home to meet a squirrel in the middle of spring and name it after him.  
He didn't know he'd never end up streaming with Charles, George, and Alex. He didn't think the quartet forming would have caused such a cultural reset in the racing world.

He didn't know he'd fall in love, for real. In a way he has dreamt after drinking a few glasses.  
And he most certainly never thought he'd have him  
Even though he had to lose him again.

And now, he's standing in front of the mirror, fixing his suit, thinking about how Carlos used to make fun of him for carrying a lint roller.

It was just the year before.  
Yet, it feels like 15 years. He feels 15 years older, 15 years wiser, but also 15 years more tired. He has even started to check for fine lines on his forehead, and he sometimes hears Daniel joke he should be more concerned about puberty hitting rather than aging. 

This year there's no crowd, no fans waiting outside. Just a few of socially distanced journalists ready to report the - hopefully - podium-winning new car. 

For a moment, Lando is almost glad there are no fans, no one that will be able to tell he's not happy, he's not hyped. Then the feeling vanishes, not like the press won't pick up he's not up to par with his usual peppy self.

And he sighs when he realizes they're going to make it about Daniel. Make it about him being intimidated, him being scared he's going to be destroyed by Daniel.  
Everyone expects him to be terrified, but do they not know Carlos was, is just as good? After all, that's why he's at Ferrari, and not here, with him.

It should be Daniel terrified of not being a worthy replacement for Carlos. Because Lando is not scared. He has worse things on his mind.

He is not being fair to Daniel. He knows, but he still can't stop letting petty thoughts creep into his mind. He's so bitter about it all.  
And Daniel's been great, he can't lie. Entering the team on tiptoes, being careful not to take a spotlight he will have to work for to achieve.  
Lando is a bit jealous of his team - okay, very jealous he might intrude and steal his family from him. 

He's too possessive perhaps, but he's already lost Carlos, and he needs reassurance his team is not going to leave him as well.

His phone lights up. 

_Buena suerte, amor._

Okay, he's overreacting. He has not really lost Carlos Carlos, but he has lost teammate Carlos.  
He has lost el-helicoptero-no-puede-volar Carlos and not amor Carlos.

He has to deal with it like he has to deal with jealousy.  
Charles already has secured the top spot on his blacklist.  
But he also hopes he has to deal with Carlos's jealousy. Just a little.  
He's selfish, he can't help it.

He replies with a couple of hearts and secures his phone away.  
His mood is already lifted.

The car revelation party - or whatever the big guys with the big money decided to call it - went by smoothly. 

Everyone is excited, even Lando. A bit less than the previous year, but he still loves racing, he still loves his job.  
No matter who his teammate is, no matter who he is racing against. At the end of the day, he's racing alone. It's just him and his car.

But he still somehow - past all the rationality - feels the burden of not having him by his side. The strain of not having him help nurture the wounds he's definitely going to have by the end of the season.

The first thing he does when he gets home is call him.

"You'll be fine."

"No, you know damn well I won't."

"Why not? What's scaring you? Daniel's a good guy."

"I know, but- Who's gonna help me when I eventually fuck up?"

"When have you ever fucked up? When have you ever needed my help?"

Lando scoffs. "Do you want chronological or alphabetical order?"

He can hear Carlos laugh on the phone, "Shut up, _idiota_."

Lando groans at the pain in his chest. He misses him so much, and it's not been a month yet. He doesn't know how he'll survive. 

"You miss me just because you're bored. When the season starts, you're not going to miss me anymore. You won't even realize I am not there."

"I hope you're yoking."

"I am not _yoking_." Carlos laughs in a way Lando recognizes he's shaking his head.

"How am I going to survive without you in my room now that you're not allowed to?"

"Babe, I wasn't allowed last year either, remember?"

"Yeah, but sneaking from Ferrari is going to be even harder!"

"From my Fewawi fwiends."

"Honestly, if Charles ever tries anything funny with you, I swear to God-"

"Relax," Carlos laughs again, "He's sad, too, you know."

"Oh, yeah. Ops. Well, still! He better keep his hands to himself." 

"Every day, you get more jealous."

"It grows exponentially."

"Awe, did Lando learn a new word?"

"Shut up, I hate you."

"You don't."

"I don't." Lando sighs. The tight feeling is back, and it's strong to the point where it hurts to breathe.  
"I wanna tell everyone."

"Everyone?"

"The team. I want them to know. They surely would help us."

"You think they'd help us sneak around?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

Is Lando sure? He doesn't know. He has time to think, hasn't he? He sighs again.  
"Yes."

"Lando, you got to think about this."

"How about you? Are you okay with it?"

"Yeah, sure. We can tell Charles if you want, but I am not sure about the team, though."

"It's okay, we don't have to do this."

"If you feel like we have, then we have."

Lando sighs and smiles, both pressured and relieved.  
Relieved because Carlos would really do whatever he wants, and he's flattered. Pressured and kind of annoyed, he has to decide by himself now.

Maybe it's a sign he is not ready, it's a sign he is still scared the word will get out of the comfortable walls of his garage.

Gossip in the paddock flies around faster than the cars themselves.  
He doesn't want their relationship to become gossip. It would kill it, it would kill him.

"You know you don't have to do this now, right?"

"I know."

"And that we don't have to do this if you don't want to?"

"I know."

"And that if you need help deciding I am here?"

" _Te amo_ ," Lando blurts out, how Carlos is able to read his mind is uncanny and scary but also one of the best things about their relationship. Lando doesn't need to say anything, he just gets him.

Carlos chuckles wholeheartedly from the other end of the line.

" _Y yo a ti._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y YO A TI CAS


	24. nothing will ever come between you and i - except maybe twitch streams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for my lovely friend lauren! you've been there from literally day one, and i am so thankful to have met you and have let you literally change my life by encouraging me to read everything changes <3
> 
> we crafted this together a long time ago, hope you like it :)
> 
> day twenty-four: sebastian vettel/charles leclerc + a drop of lewis hamilton/pierre gasly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you thank you.  
> to everyone who submitted, to everyone who read, to everyone who commented and left kudos!
> 
> i love you all <3 stay safe and positive!

Charles could hear Sebastian loudly sighing as he roamed around the house. And if he was trying his best to upset him, then he was succeeding in his intent.  
He walked in circles and wordlessly complained, trying to do everything in his power to catch his attention and hopefully distract Charles from his imminent stream.

Sebastian complained about being bored out of his mind, so Charles promised him to do something together later - whatever he wanted. He just had to let Charles stream for an hour or two.

But the man was simply restless. 

" _Seb, trova pace, per favore._ "

Sometimes frustration led Charles to switch languages, sometimes it was French, most times it was Italian. It was a subconscious thing. As if his mind wanted to make sure Sebastian understood. It had even turned into an inside joke between them. Charles spoke in Italian when he was either annoyed or turned on. There was no middle ground, and there was also no other thing Sebastian liked more than making fun of him for it.

"Which one is it this time?" He stood behind Charles's chair, pressing his thumbs on the holes at the base of his head, massaging his neck, causing Charles to lean into his hold, fighting back a groan.

No. He had to concentrate.

"Seb, I need to stream in five minutes."

"Do you really have to?" 

Charles shook his head. Sebastian loved to complain when he acted immaturely, but he wasn't being much better either.

The man behind him melodramatically sighed as he started to leave the room. "I need to stream this, I need to stream that. What does a man have to do now to have some attention? Stream with you?" 

"You could do that. I have invited you once already."

" _Manco morto._ "

He glared at Sebastian and threw at him the pillow he was using for his back. He quickly caught it, then smirked for a second at Charles's failed attempt to catch him by surprise before overdramatically pouting.

"Rude. I am not giving it back."

"Oh, shut up."

Charles immediately froze when he realized what he had done.  
Sebastian raised his eyebrows at the provocation.  
Like a panther eyeing its prey, he approached Charles, walking slowly but surely, making sure he anticipated his intentions.

He moved his chair back and sat on Charles's lap, facing him.  
Charles gulped. He was in trouble.

"What was that again?" Sebastian towered over him. Charles felt his face flush.

He moved closer to him, stopping just a few centimeters away from his face. Sebastian knew what he was doing, killing him from the inside. Saying _you wanted to ignore me? Good luck concentrating now._  
Getting his revenge. Sweet torture. 

"Nothing, nothing." Charles shook his head slightly, almost subconsciously. His body was simply obeying his survival instincts.

Sebastian leaned back, smirking even harder, resting both his elbows on the desk behind him. Probably satisfied at the reaction he got out of him. Flustering Charles and giving his skin a shade closely resembling his race suit? Mission accomplished, Seb. 

Charles's eyes widened when he saw Sebastian lean on the desk behind him. He was already imagining him pressing a key and accidentally unmuting them. Exposing them, both their location and what having Sebastian's weight press down on his thighs could do to him. The humiliation he'd endure. He would never hear the end of it. Maybe not from Pierre, but from Lando? _Oh, Dieu._

"Pierre, are you playing something?"

Sebastian's head snapped back at the screen, while Charles leaned to the side, trying to see what was happening past Sebastian's chest.

"O-oh, hi. Charles is here, too, and we are waiting for Lando. We're streaming in a bit."

"Oh, sorry! I am not sure what happened here. I'll hear from you later?"

"Well, don't worry! I don't think Charles is even here yet. COD later?"

"COD it is then."

"Is that?" Charles mouthed to Sebastian, as he reached to unmute himself, but the other stared at the screen, amused.

"Lewis?" 

"Seb?" Lewis and Pierre both immediately exclaimed, very surprised, one also amused, the other too busy being intimidated.

"Huh, Lewis, since when are you on this channel?" Charles asked, feeling very awkward at the so casual interaction with a rival.

"I think Pierre sent me the wrong link unintentionally."

"Oh, yeah." Pierre paused, perhaps to check their conversation. "I misclicked. I sent you the wrong one, sorry."

"What other link, huh?" Charles asked, his smirk spilling through his voice. Maliciously, one world at a time. Now, _that_ was much more interesting.

"Listen, if we're here to ask questions, then why is Sebastian at your house?" Pierre retorted, clearly not interested in delving into the conversation that was him and Lewis.

"He's not at my house!" Charles defensively raised his hands, despite no one being able to see him. Sebastian just snickered.

"Then how come he's speaking through your account?"

Ops. He had forgotten what the implications of having Sebastian speak were.

"Oh, no, really. I swear I am not at his house." Sebastian chuckled as he spoke. "Because-" Sebastian looked straight at the screen, already anticipating, savoring the glare he was going to get from Charles. His imminent scowl was already burning in the back of his neck. "He's at mine."

And so Sebastian was proven right. Charles tilted his head and glared at him as he heard laughing from both Pierre and Lewis. And, amid the chaos, he even heard a new voice joining.

"What the fuck is going on? L-lewis?"

Everyone kept laughing, fomented by Lando cluelessly joining the conversation.

"Yeah, Pierre was just telling Charles and me about him and Lewis playing something - I think it was - uh, was it maybe related to a fish?"

"Seb?!" Lando exclaimed, "I am so confused."

Charles, Pierre, and Lewis couldn't stop laughing. Pierre and Lewis slightly louder than Charles, who instead added, "No, Seb, COD as in Call Of Duty. It's a shooting game."

"Why the hell would you play a shooting game?" When Charles raised his shoulders, he added, "You know what? I don't want to know. You kids upset me."

"Kids? Lewis plays it too!" He defensively replied.

Sebastian grabbed Charles's cheeks, gave him a silent peck, and got up from his lap. As he got up, he added one last thing, with a smirk going from ear to ear.

"My dear, the day will come when you'll finally realize that Lewis is a bigger baby than all of you combined."

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! feedback always helps :)
> 
> find me on tumblr: [@racinglesbian](https://racinglesbian.tumblr.com/)


End file.
